


Brothers

by BalloonArcade



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Dubious Consensual Spark Merges, Emotional Roller Coaster, Family Feels, Grief/Mourning, Interspersed with Humor, Lima Syndrome, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Trauma, References to growing up in the Pits of Kaon as younglings it is not a happy place, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:51:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9870230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BalloonArcade/pseuds/BalloonArcade
Summary: This is a story of brothers: The words that tear them apart, and the colours that weave them together.





	1. Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the first thing I ever wrote. I'm still cleaning it up...the draft is in a terrible state but this is going to be a crazy ride.
> 
> I am bad at tagging fics but I try. This story has a huge scope and I hope I get the main ones. The tags may change with future chapters. Lima Syndrome and unhealthy grieving processes on crack. Emotional roller coaster. References to living in the Pits of Kaon as younglings. That is not a happy place. Eventual healing, but it's a long long road.
> 
> Read at your own risk.

Skywarp flopped backwards onto the berth, tossed his arm over his optics, and vented an overly dramatic sigh. 

And he waited. 

Silence echoed through the room broken only by light continuous taps on a transmetal screen of a datapad.

Switching arms over his optics, Skywarp yawned obnoxiously loud and waited.

Nothing but those taps.

Peeking his optics out from under the crook of his elbow, he glanced across the room at his brother.

Thundercracker was sitting sideways on the couch, back propped up against the arm rest, legs bent in front of him, typing away on a datapad with his forehelm wrinkled and his optics squinted in an intense look of concentration. 

Cycling a dejected sigh, Skywarp frowned. His brother seemed to take no notice of Skywarp’s plight: _boredom_.

Skywarp had been kicked out of Starscream’s lab when he combined a red liquid with a blue liquid because he wanted to see if they’d turn a purple shade similar to his own. The combined liquids bubbled and boiled over, and ate through part of the metal lab table. 

For a moment the melting table looked similar to Acid Storm’s faceplate, hands up on either side of his helm, screaming, as he melted. 

The result wasn't the one he was looking for but it was hilarious. 

And the bubbles _had_ been Skywarp purple. 

Starscream had been furious, and screeched that he had just destroyed two decacycles worth of work. 

Except Starscream had used a lot more technical babble and insults over actual words.

And with Starscream in his lab, Thundercracker was taking advantage of Starscream free time by being _responsible_ and catching up on paperwork.

Lame.

Skywarp’s wings twitched.

Tossing his feet up into the air, he twisted so his head hung off the edge of the berth as he stared at the now upside down view of his brother. 

Holding up a digit over his view of Thundercracker, he amused himself momentarily by alternating between offlining one optic, then the next, as he played with the parallax shift of his brother’s inverted form. 

So Lame.

Ugh. So _bored._

He dropped his arms over his head and hung there momentarily, then slithered onto the floor, arms and legs sprawled in all directions and cycled another dramatic sigh.

Skywarp’s cortex did not _do_ idle. The nature of his vops allowed him to calculate complex permutations before teleporting.

Ensuring he didn’t materialize inside a solid object meant split astrosecond adjustments in a reality that twisted, warped and bent around him. For an instant, he was simultaneously multiple places at once, and nowhere at all. 

Flying, twisting, banking, then appearing right behind an enemy, both himself and his prey in motion, engaged his mind _just enough_ that he could still manage some witty banter simultaneously.

Occasionally, something new would draw his interest and he could engage in intense bursts of productive focus. 

Mostly he existed, thoughts and ideas flitting from one thing to the next, some realized, most half abandoned, grasping for something to engage him. 

Amuse him.

Idleness was unbearably dull. He wanted to go flying, he wanted to _move_ , but Thundercracker had told him he was busy and Starscream had banned Skywarp from taking solo flights after he had vopped around a flying human transport. Their sudden course corrections at his repeated appearance in front of them eventually crashed them into a dam.

Starscream had _apparently_ been working on a raid to gather energy from that dam for decacycles and had just had his plan approved by Megatron.

Rolling over onto his front, Skywarp placed his chin in his palms and kicked his pedes up behind him as he considered his brother. Surely if Skywarp helped him finish his paper work they could go flying.

Vopping to another location of the ship, he assumed the position he’d need, and vopped back suddenly behind his brother. 

“Whatcha working on?” Skwarp drawled as he snatched up the datapad from his brother’s startled form.

Thundercracker jerked around and turned to Skywarp, a nervous horror leaking across their bond and from his field. Lunging Thundercracker attempted to snatch the datapad back.

“Don’t read that.” He snapped.

Skywarp teleported across the room out of his brother’s reach.

“Why not? I have the same clearance as you, I can see anything you can.” 

“That’s not the point, hand it over.” His brother growled and stalked toward Skywarp but Thundercracker’s field and their bond suggested worry underlined with panic, not anger.

Intrigued at his brother’s reaction, Skywarp glanced down at the datapad. The words _slick organic valve_ and _totally not metal human spike_ caught Skywarp’s optic and he paused, confused. 

“Don’t!” Thundercracker lunged and Skywarp teleported to land high up and balancing on the top of the couch.

He scanned the datapad as fast as he could as his fuel pump stared fluttering in excitement.

This wasn’t a report. His brother was reading some kind of weird human porn.

Thundercracker cycled a strange vent of frustration and started back toward Skywarp, his turbines rumbling to life.

Wait, the story stopped mid sentence at the bottom of the screen. 

A wide grin split Skywarp’s faceplate.

His brother was _writing_ some kind of weird human porn.

Vopping out of his brother’s reach again, he landed on top of the berth. 

Clearing his vocalizer Skywarp started to read aloud:

_Josh Boyfriend’s digits inserted into the slick organic valve. Susan Journeyer was excited but nervous for their first merge._

_“It’s okay, just relax.” He assured, as he pumped his digits and stroked her sensitive organic nodes._

Thundercracker roared and lunged toward Skywarp.

Skywarp vopped back to the top of the couch shifting from pede to pede, not even trying to contain his glee as he balanced. He loudly cleared his vocalizer again then continued to read from the datapad in his servo:

_His totally not metal human spike strained against his plant based woven coverings._

_“Open your flesh chestplate. We’ll take it-“_

Skywarp’s narration cut off with an _oof_ , air pushed through his vents under the force of Thundercracker’s tackle. His brother had half transformed to accelerate and grab Skywarp before he warped again.

Cackling and holding the datapad out of Thundercracker’s reach as they wrestled on the floor, his brother’s faceplate morphed from rage to a malicious smirk as he glared at into Skywarp’s optics.

“No TC, not that.” Skywarp whined, squirmed and tried to clamp his plating down tight.

Probing digits were faster, seeking straight toward delicate wires and cables between Skywarp’s plating. Vorns of life together and Thundercracker knew all Skywarp’s weaknesses. 

The attack was merciless. 

Skywarp gasped and wiggled as he tried to escape from his brothers relentless assault. 

Laughter he couldn’t control burst from his vocalizer until he was wheezing silent static. 

He kicked and tried to clamp his plating down, but Thundercracker had him pinned.

“You better not have deleted anything.” Thundercracker threatened, smirking with smug satisfaction.

His brother thought he had won.

But Skywarp wasn’t bored anymore.

……………

//Sunnnnnnny. Sunnnnnnnnny. This is your conscience speaking. Pay attention to your amazing and talented brother.//

Sunstreaker scowled. Sideswipe was on monitor duty again and had been annoying his twin along their bond for the last twenty minutes. Fragging monitor duty. Why did Prowl always assign Sideswipe to monitor duty on Sunstreaker’s days off.

//Sunnnnny. Sunnnnnn-//

//Fragging what?// He finally snapped back along their bond. Sideswipe could be relentlessly patient and persistent when he wanted something.

//Whatcha doin?//

Sideswipe knew damn well what Sunstreaker was doing. Standing alone in their room with his plating twitching, and staring at a fragging blank canvas as if he could threaten colours to appear on it. 

Again.

//Do you need more colours? I can order you more.// Sunstreaker had more colours than he knew what to do with, Sideswipe was always buying him more paint, custom brushes, and canvases. Wouldn’t even tell his twin were he got the money for it all from. Sunstreaker had looked up the costs of some of the paints before, Sideswipe had spared no expense obtaining the ones shot with crushed crystals. He didn’t think there had been a human market for that.

Picking up the bucket of black paint, he tossed it at the taunting white canvas with a snarl. Fragging white. 

The bucket broke through the middle and splashed black paint across his supposed studio. Sideswipe had made so much noise that their neighbours on the Ark asked to be reassigned. Once empty, Sunstreaker's twin cut through the walls on both sides, making a media center and workshop for himself on the one side, and a studio for his twin on the other.

//I’m out of black. And white.// Sunstreaker looked over to where he had tossed his last can of white earlier, which is what caused Sideswipe to start pestering him along their bond in the first place. He’d thrown that one against the door.

Stupid. Now Sunstreaker would have to clean it all up. His hissy fit didn’t even make him feel better. It certainly didn’t unlock his colours.

It never did.

//Sunny. I’m coming.//

Frag. Of course Sideswipe felt his dejected tantrum and frustration along their bond.

//You’re on monitor duty. You’re going to get in trouble again.//

//Frag monitor duty. This is more important. This is Twin Stuff.//

Even without their twin bond between their sparks, Sunstreaker knew it was Sideswipe at the door to this room - where Sunstreaker stood around and failed to paint - as soon as the door cycled open. He didn’t bother to turn around. None of the Autobot’s knew what was in this room. Not one of them knew he use to be an artist, or at least had tried to be, before fragging seekers had blown up the tiny studio Sideswipe has scrimped and saved for his apparent soft sparked little bro. 

The studio Sideswipe had almost gotten killed over.

Why did he keep trying? This wasn’t his life anymore. Sunstreaker may share half of Sideswipe’s spark, but his cortex and combat protocols were anything but soft.

A servo rested on his upper arm plating and turned him around from where he was staring at the black dripping down the orange walls of the Ark. 

Fragging orange. 

He should repaint this entire room black. 

Or pink. Sunstreaker good at painting with pink.

“Sunny let’s go for a drive hey? Clear your head? Maybe find some inspiration?”

Sunstreaker just snarled and pulled his arm out of his twin’s servo. 

“Whatever.” Turning, he stalked into their room and out into the halls, toward the entrance of the Ark. Surrounded by fragging orange and walking with slagging _Sideswipe red_.

Sideswipe was walking backwards directly in front of him, trying to make him laugh or smile.

At least the Ark wasn’t blue. Or Primus forbid, fragging green. This whole fragging planet was slagging blue and green.

Sideswipe seemed convinced that was a sign.

It didn’t matter. Sunstreaker was good at what he did, and that wasn’t slagging art. 

Not anymore. 

Prowl tried to stop them as they got close to the entrance of the Ark. Both of them turned off their commlinks and pretended they didn't hear him yelling at Sideswipe to get back on duty. Transforming to vehicle mode, they took off with Sideswipe tossing a vague explanation of "Twin Stuff" over his shoulder at the Autobot SIC.

At least most things on this planet weren't purple. Fragging purple was almost as bad as green.

Or his favourite colour: slagging Sideswipe red.

Sideswipe red was one of the only things Sunstreaker remembered of his younglinghood.

Sunstreaker’s memories started when he onlined in an adult frame, programmed for combat, convinced his frame and cortex were crumbling to rust.

Some memories ran spark deep. 

And so did Sideswipe's split-spark twin Spin Out’s ability to see emotions in colours.

And his twin was determined to help him see them again.

Nothing but the best for his sickly, soft sparked little bro Spinny.

But Spin Out was dead, crumbled to rust. Sunstreaker had taken his place.

And Sunstreaker was forged for the Pits of Kaon, built for destruction; not creation.

They pulled into a clearing and transformed. Sideswipe loved this place. Loved to lay down on his back in the grass, point out the clouds and try to pretend they were shapes. After forty minutes of laying in the clearing, listening as Sideswipe pointed out various clouds that looked like Autobots, Sunstreaker spoke.

"Hey Sides?"

"Yea Sunny?"

"Thanks." He turned to look at Sideswipe and tossed him a crooked smile as he pulsed their bond with love. "For getting me out of my head."

"Hey, what else are brother's for?" Sideswipe shrugged but he pulsed love back toward him. They continue to lay there for a few more minutes before Sunstreaker felt their bond pulsed with an attempt to stifle mischief and glee. Sunstreaker was up and running before Sideswipe had a chance to move. 

"Don't you fragging dare." Sunstreaker threatened as he turned around to face his twin.

He wasn't there. The field behind him was empty as his fuel pump raced.

Tackled to the ground from the side with an _oomph_ , even Sunstreaker had a hard time predicting his twin sometimes. As probing digits sought delicate wires through transformation seams, Sideswipe was relentless no matter how much Sunstreaker squirmed and kept his lips pursed shut. 

Sideswipe crowed in victory when he finally got what he wanted. Sunstreaker's twin was relentlessly patient and persistent. And he loved making Sunstreaker laugh until he started to snort no matter how long it took. As Sunstreaker watched Sideswipe prance around the meadow in victory, he wished he could see the swirls of oranges with purples, and soft reds that should be surrounding his twin. 

Still patiently trying to reach that little remnant of Sideswipe's little Spinny that had been spliced into Sunstreaker's cortex, Sideswipe had been trying so hard since their tiny studio burst into flames to help Sunstreaker to see emotions in colours again. 

All it took, were a few words from a blue seeker

And a flash of purple with a whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made the mistake of opening the other multi-chapter fic I wrote. So now I'm going to torture myself by updating two massive fics because as a reader, I always wonder what fic writers are hoarding on their computers.
> 
> I apparently hoard devastation and brother feels.


	2. Trine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I play fast and loose with canon. It's how I roll.

Skywarp flitted and vopped around Thundercracker and Starscream’s steady flight path. 

Twisting straight up into the air he purposefully stalled his engines then pointed his nose cone straight down. Threading the distance between his trine leader and his brother perfectly, he vopped himself out of his stall and back into a respectable formation taking his proper position as Third. 

Neither one of them ever twitched. 

He pulsed his affection and glee that they were taking a flight together along their trine bond in through their sparks and his brother pulsed back his sense of relaxation that they were all spending time together. Starscream pulsed the equivalent of an optic roll but it was tinged with pride.

Skywarp loved to fly with his trine. He owed everything to them.

Starscream and Thundercracker had been batch mates, kindled around the same time by separate prominent trines, and marked for greatness from cycle one.

Skywarp had been found in the last hot spot by Vector Sigma, far from the others. 

Alone.

Despite the stigma of claiming an isolated spark, Skywarp had been claimed by Thundercracker’s family for nurturing. His isolated green spark indicated coveted outlier abilities over the traditional blue. 

Instead of greatness however, Skywarp was a constant embarrassment in contrast to his serious, talented and studious brother.

Processor flitting from one subject to the next, unable to focus for a period of time to master any of them, he was quickly distracted away from the precision and rigidity of maneuvers. Despite his distraction, he never hit anything in his flights, but he often caused those around him to spin out of control.

Skywarp had given up quickly in attempting to live up to his family’s expectations. 

Instead he had made it his personal mission to make Thundercracker laugh and appreciate the little things that he often forgot to notice beyond rigid protocol and maneuvers. 

The scowls and harsh words from his guardians were worth every half cocked smile Thundercracker would be unable to suppress from behind his datapads when he was suppose to be studying.

When he could really get Thundercracker laughing, he’d snort. 

Embarrassment would tinge Thundercracker’s field, but once he’d laugh that hard, the snorts would become the reason to laugh in themselves. Then Skywarp would laugh so hard his vocalizer would start to wheeze and both of them would laugh harder until they were gasping with vents open wide on the floor.

Thundercracker developed an interest in the arts despite the rigid military expectations where he excelled. He had thanked Skywarp for that.

His brother was the only mech that had believed in Skywarp. They would spend joors flying high up and watching the bustle of Vos past beneath them. Skywarp would flit about from place to place, cortex drifting as he imagined multiple locations just beyond his awareness and would describe them to Thundercracker over their private commlink.

Circling close and darting in front of his brother’s nose cone, Thundercracker never flinched.

The day Thundercracker told Skywarp he envied how Skywarp perceived the world around him was the day Skywarp discovered his outlier ability.

Delving deeper into his descriptions, in his excitement at his brother’s unexpected longing, he danced among the thermals in front of Thundercracker. Skywarp pushed his processor while boosting his thrusters harder in an attempt to share more of what he could see with his brother. 

Then reality twisted and shifted at uneven speeds and pulled in on itself as parallax showed distances and apparent relative speeds of everything, and nothing. Thundercracker was in front of, behind, beside and above Skywarp in one single instant. 

Spark racing, Skywarp panicked that he would crash into his beloved brother.

Suddenly reality snapped back into focus through a brief flash of purple and he was solidly behind his brother.

Thundercracker flinched that day. Skywarp couldn’t blame him.

Skywarp didn’t remember flying or looping behind Thundercracker. He thought he had glitched.

Thundercracker had been demanding what had happened over their private comms but Skywarp ignored him. 

His spark was racing. 

The hushed voices of his guardians echoed in his processor. They thought Skywarp was glitched. Angry debates that they never thought he was around to hear; that they should bring him in for reformatting. 

Self diagnostics revealed nothing amiss. 

Thundercracker had dropped back beside him and was pinging him for an explanation. Asking why he wouldn’t respond.

Skywarp wanted to be far away.

He remembered researching glitches and learned that the city of Kaon welcomed all sorts of mechs. Welcomed though, was the wrong word. It was a city of outcasts and the destitute, and no one cared enough if a mech was glitched or not.

Dust and pollution hung heavy in the sky of the image he had stared at as he imaged himself there among the outcasts if he had to flee reformatting. 

Reality shifted again, and in a flash of purple he was there.

It took a few decacycles of trial and error before he finally vopped back into his room in Vos to find Thundercracker startle at his sudden appearance. He’d been sitting on Skywarp’s berth with his legs hugged close to his cockpit, staring at nothing.

Skywarp had witnessed his brother’s position in the brief glimpse of the state and orientation of his location before he committed to the vop.

Shifting from pede to pede at Thundercracker’s wide optics and gaping mouth; his brother’s field hesitantly stretched out with disbelief, and relief. 

“Soooo, I’m an outlier.” Skywarp had stated, as he tossed his brother a hesitant smile while rubbing a servo at the back of his neck.

“No frag you stupid glitch.” Thundercracker had grumbled without acid as he stood, then wrapped his arms tight around Skywarp.

Skywarp couldn’t return the embrace because his brother had trapped his arms at his side.

Time passed beyond to the point when hugging seemed like it should be done and Thundercracker showed no sign of releasing him.

“TC you are squishing me.” Skywarp squirmed and struggled to take a full vent.

Thundercracker let him go but placed his servos on both sides of Skywarp’s faceplate, and rested his forehelm against his brother’s. Skywarp’s spark had hammered against its casing at the gesture.

Holding another mech like this was a sign of trust and devotion that surpassed familial bonds and friendship. He’d seen his guardians do it to Thundercracker. This was the first time Skywarp had ever experienced this gesture for himself.

“Never leave me like that again.”

Skywarp couldn’t help it. He laughed. It was his default mannerism, especially in new and awkward situations.

“Well you know it’s a part of me. I’m going to keep vopping around.”

Even this close with their forehelms held together he could see Thundercracker’s crooked half of a smile. 

“Vopping?” He questioned.

“Well it’s the sound I make when I show up somewhere, and it’s kind of like I vaporize, pop and hop into and from a location all at once.”

Thundercracker groaned.

“You _can’t_ call it that.”

Skywarp stuck out his lower lip and pouted.

“Why not?”

“It’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid.” Skywarp muttered.

Thundercracker cycled a ventilation then crushed Skywarp into a tight hug again.

“Primus I missed you.”

Cortex back in the present, Skywarp rolled so he was upside down and continued on in formation precisely in his correct and proper location as Third. 

He sent a mischievous ping to his brother along the trine bond.

::Hey Star? Thundercracker tell you about the new project he’s working on?:: Skywarp sent over their private comms.

Interest perked from Starscream’s side of the bond and embarrassment flooded from Thundercracker.

::No! I was unaware Thundercracker was working on anything.::

Starscream would be able to feel the grumble Thundercracker sent to Skywarp along their bond, it was certainly loud enough.

::Tell him TC::

::Yes, _TC_ do tell.::

::I’m writing.:: If it wasn’t over comms Skywarp knew Thundercracker would have responded with an exasperated vented sigh. He knew if he didn’t answer Skywarp would just blab; this was too good not to share.

::Writing about what?:: Starscream asked, field pulsing along with the interest from his spark bond.

::Stories.:: Thundercracker muttered.

::About the war? Historical accounts?:: 

::Fiction. Science-Fiction.::

::What?:: Confusion leaked from Starscream now and Skywarp could no longer contain his glee.

::Fictional stories are a human concept. They make things up all the time for amusement -:: 

::And _pleasure_ :: Skywarp added with mirth.

::Why would you want to pursue such a useless past time?:: There was a hint of distaste to from Starscream along their bond.

::It’s an art form. Fictional stories - _fantasy_ \- are a way to explore complex emotional feeling about certain concepts and situations. And they function as a way to prompt empathy between others who don’t live the same experience others do. A way of stepping into their lives and getting a taste of how they live, how they feel. And it’s not always about _pleasure_. It can be a way to explore darker themes and concepts in a safe environment. Both the reader and the author can take separate personal messages from the experience. Stories about fictional characters can change some deeply held beliefs.::

::I see.:: Starscream responded shortly.

Now Skywarp felt bad. He didn’t know his brother's stories had meant that much to Thundercracker, had assumed Thundercracker was just chasing an overload.

::It will be a useful skill after the war.:: Skywarp offered with a pulse of support over the bond.

Surprise filtered through the bond from Thundercracker.

::Not this again.:: Starscream groaned.

::Yes this again. It’s important we think of new ways to develop Cybertronian culture as well as preserve its past. The humans have short lives, they are an excellent study of how to change and adapt while preserving certain aspects of culture and progressing others. We live so long we become stagnant, and for a society that prides itself on transformation, we are quite rigid when it comes to new ideas.:: Thundercracker defended.

::Cybertron is dead and the few of us left won’t survive the war unless we kill all the Autobots. They will _never_ accept a life not dictated by function.:: Starscream groused.

::It can’t be that black and white. Look at their faction. They were mostly civilians and scientists, yet they’ve managed to hold their own and adapt into soldiers. They all have stories Star. Emotions. Reasons they joined the Autobots instead of the Decepticons or staying Neutral.:: Thundercracker reasoned.

::Neutral was a death sentence and you know it.:: Starscream bit.

::Only because Megatron decreed that if you weren't with the Decepticons you were against the Decepticons.:: Thundercracker punctuated how he felt about _that_ along the bond. Guilt for the unarmed neutral colonies and cities they had destroyed. 

But Thundercracker followed his trine leader Starscream’s orders.

Always would. Because they were trine.

Except Thundercracker didn’t fire his weapons as much as he use to, and missed more targets than he hit.

Skywarp vopped further away to distance himself from their bickering. He hadn’t meant to start that discussion again. 

Transforming to root mode, he allowed himself to drop in free fall from the height he had relocated to. The rushing of the wind in his audials drown out his trine leader’s and his brother’s fight over their comms.

It had been because of Skywarp that Thundercracker had kept turning down offers to trine. All the maneuvers in flight school were designed with the assumption that seekers would trine.

Except no potential trine seemed willing to account for Skywarp’s unique ability, or his quirks that came with it. 

And he’d only gotten one seeker stuck in an wall once. 

A miscalculation that he focused hard to never repeat.

But the seeker had lost his wings when he had to be cut out of the wall, and even though he got replacements, he was apparently never the same. Skywarp heard he would flinch and careen off course at the slightest noise resembling Skywarp’s _vop_ and became useless around anything purple.

As far as Skywarp knew, those wings had stayed in that wall until Vos’ destruction.

Without a trine, Thundercracker hadn’t been able to advance as far as his talents should have allowed. And his creators eventually disowned him and Skywarp both. The scandal was worth less to them than their continued embarrassment.

Skywarp tried to convince him to accept the offers. Argued that he’d be better off on his own. 

Thundercracker would just shrug, say they were a package deal, and anyone who couldn’t use the strategic advantage of Skywarp’s ability didn’t deserve Thundercracker’s loyalty.

Starscream had seen the advantage. He had reveled in it.

Thundercracker had lost contact with Starscream when his friend dropped out of the flight academy, rebelled against his design, his creator’s plans, and joined the Science Academy of Iacon.

Vorns later Starscream appeared again and tore through the Vos’ Flight Academy with a single minded focus. 

Vos had never seen a seeker like Starscream. He flew as if he commanded the winds themselves. With the size of his ego, Skywarp often joked that Starscream could bend the sky to his will like Skywarp could bend reality. 

Seekers clamored to form a trine with Starscream. He ignored the clamor as if it were beneath his notice, and Vos was abuzz that Starscream had his optic on becoming Air Commander. Scandalous rumors perpetrated that he would try without a forming a trine. 

Starscream showed up one day, unannounced, outside Thundercracker and Skywarp’s shared one room apartment and pushed his way in as soon as Thundercracker had cycled opened the door.

Nasal ridge wrinkled in distain Starscream stood in their tiny home, demanding to know why Thundercracker hadn’t accepted any of the numerous offers to trine. 

Starscream paced in the small space and ranted that Thundercracker was wasting his talents with simple guard escorts. Thundercracker was skilled. Solid second material. Stable. Dependable. Had perfected a unique sonic combat move that no others had managed to replicate. He should have trined vorns ago.

Skywarp had clamped down his plating, stared at the floor and flinched as Starscream’s voice screeched higher knowing what was about to be offered.

When Starscream was finished his rant about Thundercracker’s abilities, that had been delivered in a tone more like a complaint than a compliment, he stood with his servo on his hip plate and tapped his pede as if they were wasting his precious time.

“Well?” He demanded with narrowed optics when Thundercracker didn’t respond immediately.

Skywarp heard Thundercracker shrug and give his simple response he always gave Skywarp.

“My brother and I, we’re a package deal.”

Skywarp braced himself.

Silence stretched between all of them, then blue pedes stepped into Skywarp’s view of their dingy floor. 

Startled, he looked up and Starscream reached out, grabbing his chin and tilting his helm as if to see it in different lighting. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Starscream kept his servo clamped on Skywarp as he directed his question to Thundercracker. 

“Nothing. He’s perfect third material.” Was Thundercracker’s surly response.

Skywarp clenched his servos into fists. 

“There has to be _something_.” Starscream’s focus returned to Skywarp and considered him as if his existence personally offended Starscream.

Skywarp’s optics sought his brother’s to the side. Thundercracker was scowling at Starscream.

“Is he _glitch-_

As soon as Starscream started to say it, Skywarp bent and twisted reality, seeing all angles of the room in an instant. He settled on as close as he could possibly appear behind Starscream, without actually appearing merged into the other seeker’s plating, and left behind a negligible fraction of his chin plating to avoid taking Starscream with him.

 _-ed_?”

Skywarp had appeared behind Starscream with a flash of purple and a _vop_ before Starscream had even finished his insult.

“How’s that for _glitched_.” Skywarp said into his audials from behind.

Starscream whipped around and stared from his servo that was still shaped as if it was holding Skywarp’s chin to Skywarp’s face with wide optics.

And this had been when the hopefuls normally took off. 

Instead Starscream narrowed his optics and started firing questions at him. 

“How did you do that? I was touching you! How did you avoid taking me with you?”

Unnerved at the sudden interest, instead of fear or discomfort at his ability, Skywarp gave a weak laugh and shrugged while rubbing at the back of his neck cabling.

“I just…do?”

Starscream scowled at that.

“You just _do_.” He mocked.

Skywarp bristled and glanced at Thundercracker. His brother was staring at Starscream with an unreadable expression.

“What is your range? Is it line of sight? Is there any material that interferes?” Starscream leaned into Skywarp’s space and searched his optics.

Uncomfortable under the scrutiny Skywarp took a step back and shuffled his pedes.

“I can pretty much go any place I’ve ever seen; never tried to leave the planet though. I’ve never been blocked by anything but I have to be careful not to merge my frame into another object or mech when I appear. There is always a risk that a new building or something has appeared in a location but I can see my location a fraction of an astrosecond before I arrive, in which I’m actually in multiple locations at once, and nowhere at the same time so I can abort back to my original location or a different one?” 

The answer came out more as question than a statement. No one but Thundercracker had ever been interested in the mechanics of his ability before.

Starscream just glared at him in silence.

“That’s what it feels like anyway.” Skywarp offered with a shrug.

Starscream huffed and ruffled his plating.

“Skywarp does best when given leeway to make his own decisions in the moment and the trust from his flight companions that he will not interfere with their flight paths. Rigid patterns from the Academy were not designed to account for his ability and the unique way he interacts with reality. His strengths are in his unpredictability.” Thundercracker offered as if he were reading from a textbook. He hadn’t moved from where he stood.

Starscream had locked his attention on Thundercracker during the most dry explanation Skywarp had ever heard to say that Skywarp constantly vopped around in the sky and it was best to maintain course and not interfere because he could _see_ you outside of time and knew you were there.

Panicking and crashing into Skywarp was how the one seeker had ended up half in the wall.

Starscream shifted his attention back on Skywarp and squacked out a vent of disbelief. 

“Do you have any idea how complex the calculations are for transporting matter through time and space? There are so many variables, not to mention the energy requirements. How long were you standing there calculating that teleportation?”

Starscream walked around Skywarp then, searching his frame visually as if the answer was somewhere on his frame.

“As soon as you started to say glitched.” Starscream paused behind Skywarp at his response and he must have made some kind of motion or expression to Thundercracker because his brother looked kind of smug.

“And I don’t teleport.” Skywarp added with indignation.

“I vop.” He crossed his arms over his cockpit. Thundercracker’s faceplate struggled to contain a smirk.

“What?” Starscream demanded as he completed his circuit of his examination. 

“It’s called vopping.”

Starscream sputtered. 

“You are not calling it that.” He flicked the side of Skywarp’s helm to punctuate his demand.

“What do _you_ care what I call it? It’s _my_ ability.” Skywarp rubbed where Starscream had flicked him and scowled at the arrogant seeker.

Starscream had tossed his servos up into the air and vented exasperated.

“It’s completely nonsensical and relates in no way to the scientific reality of what you can do and I won’t have _my_ third’s talent depreciated by such a ridiculous term.” Starscream finished his screeching rant with narrowed optics.

Then he spun on his heel strut, marched toward the door and nodded briefly at Thundercracker who nodded back more deeply. 

As Starscream reached the door he waved his servo in the air as if dismissing them and didn’t bother to turn around. 

“I’ll forward you the date and location Thundercracker. Be prompt. As my second I expect you will keep your brother’s _unpredictability_ in line during the ceremony.”

Then Starscream was gone and Thundercracker was grinning in Starscream’s wake.

“Uh, TC what just happened?” Skywarp had shifted from pede to pede uncertainly.

Thundercracker closed the distance between them and swept Skywarp up into a hug and pressed their forehelms together. His field pulsed with pride.

“We just found a trine leader who can see and understand the potential of your ability. Honestly I think he’s more impressed with you as his third than me as his second.”

Stunned Skywarp replayed the events through his processor. 

“I’m still calling it vopping.” Skywarp had muttered with a sly grin.

Thundercracker laughed so hard he started to snort then Skywarp couldn’t contain his own giggles and his vocalizer started to wheeze and they ended up in a heap on their dingy floor vents fanned wide open to cool their frames from their uncontrollable laughter.

The ground was fast approaching now and Skywarp turned his processor back to where, if Starscream and Thundercracker had maintained their velocity when he left them, he predicted they’d be.

Reality for Skywarp slowed to a halt as he simultaneously hovered inches from smashing his faceplate into the ground and observed his trine member’s jet modes from multiple angles.

He noticed the wide optic look on the red Autobot frontliner’s faceplate and his yellow counterpart’s customary snarl from the clearing around where he was about to smash into the ground if he continued this course. He considered vopping behind their frames and shouting _boo_ but the responsible thing would be to return to his trine and defuse the fight he’d started.

The best thing about being Skywarp was that he could do both.

He vopped back to his trine and transformed back into jet mode to burn off and halt the speed he had gained from his free fall. 

::And then they get eaten by a giant alien space monster in the end right TC?:: Skywarp interrupted the argument Thundercracker and Starscream were still having.

::What?:: Starscream was always successfully derailed by Skywarp speaking nonsense.

::Thundercracker’s story.::

::Why would I end my story that way?:: His brother questioned

::Because all the best Cybertronian legends end that way right?:: Skywarp swore he had heard that somewhere once.

::You have no understanding or appreciation of the arts.:: Thundercracker huffed through their comms though he pulsed amusement at Skywarp for his antics.

::He barely understands science, and that has rules:: Starscream complained.

::Well I understand that the terror twins are just standing in a clearing not far from here and I’m bored with your bickering, I’m going to go play.::

::Skywarp, no. Don’t play with fire.:: Thundercracker warned.

::I can’t hear you through all the fun I’m having.:: Skywarp taunted as he sped upwards again.

::Listen to your brother Skywarp, that’s an order.:: 

Well he succeeded in uniting Starscream and Thundercracker again.

::They can’t touch me and you both love it. I’m unpredictable remember?:: He pulsed his love, devotion, and appreciation for his trine.

Cutting his turbines, he transformed back to root mode and unsubspaced his blaster, and the moment his velocity leveled out to zero - the moment a falling object changed direction from going up to going down and hovered there suspended with no velocity in either direction - he stepped outside time while shifting reality and his processor’s focus back to the clearing he had seen.

The Autobots had moved in the short time Skywarp had been gone. The yellow twin was pointing at the red one, paused mid snarl and the red twin looked excited. 

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, the terror twins, the Autobot’s barely controlled cursed split sparks. 

They were viscous and one of the sole exceptions to Thundercracker’s theory that only civilians and scientists became Autobots.

Megatron knew them from his time in the Gladiator Pits of Kaon. Sometimes he ranted after a battle that they should have been Decepticons. It drove him to a rage that he never understood how mechs forged from the poverty and deprivation of Kaon could chose the path of preserving the old system of government and corruption.

Next to facing Optimus Prime himself, or Jazz in a dark corridor, few Autobots were ever as feared as these two among the Decepticons.

The twins weren’t right in the cortex. Insane mechs were disturbing and unpredictable. They never hesitated to take on a combiner team. Where one would retreat, the other would advance. 

Even blocked comms couldn’t stop their coordination much to Soundwave’s - well it was hard to tell if anything frustrated Soundwave.

Sunstreaker was prone to beserking past the point of registering pain and Sideswipe would tear off plating with a wink and a faceplate splitting grin.

And Skywarp loved the challenge of taunting them.

Reality for Skywarp continued the moment he vopped in behind Sideswipe his blaster leveled against his helm.

“Fancy meeting you here. Stow it Sunshine or you’ll be wearing your twin’s cortex all over your shiny finish.” Sunstreaker snarled and revved his engine aggressively but stopped his transformation sequence for his blaster.

Skywarp doubted the mech was capable of anything other than growling, snarling, or malicious smirks as he punched through plating.

“How do you manage to stay so shiny anyway? Do you literally do nothing else but fix you finish, I know you were dented to the Pits a few cycles ago.” Sunstreaker growled and clenched his fists. Predictable.

“How can you stand to be around a mech so boring all the time. Does he ever speak?” Skywarp punctuated his question as he jabbed the barrel of his blaster harder against Sideswipe’s helm.

He could shoot him and vop away before Sunstreaker reacted. But that was hardly fun.

“Oh my brother's a riot, you just need to know how to listen. I’m glad you didn’t go splat by the way.” Sideswipe offered cheerfully.

Skywarp’s wings twitched at the unexpected cheer and comment of his wellbeing.

“See, Sunny here bet his monitor duty that you couldn’t warp out in time. You just gained me a free evening.”

Sideswipe slowly rotated his helm so Skywarp could see his optic. 

“Knew you’d be back so I could thank you myself.”

He flickered it in a wink, flashed him a smile and Skywarp felt his lines run cold as uncertainty flowed through his bond to his trine.

“You’re like me you see." Sideswipe chuckled. "You like to have fun.”

And the ground under Skywarp’s pedes erupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Developing the dynamics and physics of Skywarp's vops was a lot of fun. [Have the theme song I listened to on repeat to get Skywarp's character and vops down](https://youtu.be/c7cmO25utTo)
> 
> I'm going to make a barricade of pillows now to save me from myself.


	3. Distortion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just tuck you into some blankets for this chapter and a pillow to hug as we get straight into plot. Also take another look at those tags and be certain you want to do this to yourself.

Ringing and static. 

Skywarp couldn’t hear anything but ringing and static no matter how many times he reset his audials.

The force of the blinding explosion knocked Skywarp backwards off his pedes before he could process what was happening.

Rolling on the ground, he grasped his audials. Vision blurred and glitched static, his cortex throbbed as his fuel pump raced. Spark hammering against its casing, spinning and straining he thought he groaned but he couldn't tell. No possible destinations; there was only this single reality. 

No focus. He couldn't focus. Couldn’t _see_. 

Couldn’t vop.

Pausing his reality, he stepped out of time and nothing changed. Of course nothing changed. There was no time between vops. Locked here on the ground with no destination plotted, no destination he could _see_ , this single reality was all there was. His audials and processor remained ringing, locked in splitting static in his own personal plane of existence outside of time.

If he vopped blind, he could end up anywhere, _in anything_.

Sparks couldn’t rotate through solid objects.

Aborting the vop that went no where, there would be no sound; no flash of purple as he entered back into a reality where time mattered.

Starscream and Thundercracker could be comming him, couldn’t hear them over the distortion. But he could feel their reassurance and support through their trine bond in reaction to his spark racing terror. He’d never been able to _not vop_ since he figured out how. 

His trine reached to him, and he could feel the comfort edged in fury for their Third’s panic. They would be on their way already.

Hauled to his knees by a servo that tightened around his neck cabling, he worked his mouth open and close as his intake started to be crushed. Resetting his optics it was as if time had jumped forward and a blurred red form was tugging at yellow plating that was resolving vaguely into an arm.

Stepping outside of time again, he still couldn’t plot a vop. Not a single one.

Back in the reality he shared with everyone else, the first thing he heard was Sunstreaker’s savage and garbled snarl.

“He was - _static_ \- to kill you!”

“ _static_ \- unny, he’s unarmed - _static_ \- can’t kill him, they’ll lock you in the hole - _static_ \- Prime is going to give us his look - _static_. You hate - _static_ “I expect better of you two after all this time” look.”

Sideswipe’s words were distorted, but the first full sentence Skywarp could make out through the distortion of his systems was actually a really good impression of Optimus Prime.

And despite his situation, with the more volatile of the terror twin’s crushing his intake causing overheating warnings to pop up on his HUD and unable to execute a single vop - or more likely because of his situation - Skywarp struggled out a raspy laugh. 

Sideswipe’s blobby blurry form moved beside Skywarp and he waved in front of his optics.

“I think we broke him Sunny. I gotta say, I’m kinda surprised he didn’t warp away after the concussion bomb went off. I just expected his audials to be ringing and for him to be seeing spots with some burned out sensors far away from here.” The servo around Skywarp's intake relaxed a fraction.

Panic, rage and warning shot through the bond from Thundercracker. 

And even though Skywarp’s audial feed was still distorted and garbled, he shut off his audial receptors. 

The force of his brother’s sonic boom rattled through his plating and internals, and Skywarp knew his trine had come. Sunstreaker’s servo was torn from his throat as a light blue blur slammed into the psychotic frontliner full of fury. 

Sideswipe was gone from Skywarp’s side and instant later in a blur of red, blue, and white.

Cycling gasping ventilations through his main intake to cool his overheating frame, Skywarp dropped on to servos as he focused on venting and calming his racing spark. 

Shaking his helm did nothing to clear his cortex and visual feed as he tried to control the trembling of his wings. That had been too _close_. Onlining his audial receptors, he could hear the distorted sounds of battle above him.

Taking one more calming ventilation, he tried to focus as he felt a sharp spike of surprise from Thundercracker that drown out his brother’s fury. Skywarp’s trine needed their Third.

Blurry shapes in the sky resolved into blots of colour as his trine leader attempted to shake off a blob of bright crimson red that was probably punching into his cockpit. 

Searched the sky for his brother, Skywarp wondered if a concussion bomb could mess with spark bonds because Thundercracker was positively vibrating in interest. But that couldn’t be right because a few klicks later a stream of black smoke started to billow out of his frame and Thundercracker started to twist - a blob of a smoking blue and yellow ruin spinning toward the ground.

A focused concentration and determination radiated along their bond to Skywarp now.

The psychotic yellow twin would bail as Thundercracker skimmed close to the ground and Skywarp’s brother would pull up and twist out of his spin. 

That was always the plan: give the ground pounder an out and they often took it.

The red blob disengaged in an arch from Starscream, activating his jet pack and careening in the direction of blue and yellow blobs. Skywarp reset his optics, and as if time jumped forward again in a spat of static, his visual feed resolved enough to see Thundercracker no longer in his spin, still billowing smoke with his yellow hitch hiker. 

A Starscream coloured blob headed toward Skywarp, bond pulsing with concern for him as Skywarp attempted to stand. His world spun and shifted as he swayed and collapsed back down, attempting to reboot his equilibrium sensors. Resetting his audial and visual feeds again he tried to cut through the distortion as he emitted a frustrated whine.

His trine leader landed and crouched in front of him, asking if he was okay, but Skywarp’s optics were locked on Thundercracker and Sunstreaker.

Skywarp’s spark pounded against its casing.

Any moment now Sunstreaker would jump off. 

A blob of red with a jet of flames started to resolve into Sideswipe, intercepting them, and reached to grab his twin’s servo. Their servos met - 

\- they slipped and Sideswipe went spinning as Sunstreaker remained on Thundercracker. Skywarp’s visual feed cleared in time to see Sunstreaker tearing apart his own arm and Skywarp’s brother didn’t pull up.

Starscream wrenched himself around, wings hiked high as the ground shook on Thundercracker’s impact. A fireball erupted into the sky from the crash site, and the shock wave flattened out nearby trees. 

Shock rang through the bond and Starscream’s field. 

Skywarp heard screaming as he tried to stand but reality felt muddled and muted, like this was happening to some other unlucky purple seeker. As if Skywarp was an observer to his own frame. 

Starscream transformed and launched in the direction of the billowing flames and smoke. Heavy artillery weaponry arched toward him and the ground shook as explosions rained down toward the Decepticon second in command. Vos had never seen a seeker like Starscream, and he couldn’t even get though the fire storm of missiles. Through Skywarp’s own screams, he could hear the enraged screams of another with each missile, each incendiary device launched in Starscream’s direction preventing him from landing.

Struggling to stop his reality Skywarp clutched at his helm. Reality stopped. Flames stopped reaching further into the sky. Missiles stopped. Blaster fire stopped. Sound stopped.

The pain in Skywarp’s spark remained.

And Skywarp still couldn’t see anything but the single impossible reality in front of him.

Internally in this place beyond time, he screamed inside his cortex. Why hadn’t he stopped reality before Thundercracker had crashed? He could have held his brother there in that moment indefinitely.

He never would have had to let go.

Reality moved forward and Skywarp collapsed on the ground with a sob. 

Useless. 

Skywarp was useless without his ability. Just a glitched seeker who couldn’t keep his attention on anything and look at what he’d done to Thundercracker just because he’d wanted to not be bored and have a little fun.

Starscream landed beside him again, pulsing soothing waves to calm him.

“Calm down Sky. Focus. The bond’s still there.”

Skywarp was up and scrambling in the direction of his brother in an instant but Starscream placed a firm hold around him.

“The Autobots have arrived. I couldn’t get close enough - the other half of the terror twins has lost it, I think Sunstreaker deactivated in the crash. Sideswipe was launching weapons at me I’d never seen Sky, but you know their medic. He’ll patch Thundercracker up, then Prime will contact Megatron and negotiate Thundercracker’s return for a cease fire for a decacycle or two.” Starscream soothed with conviction.

“You think their medic can fix _that_?” The flames were put out, but black smoke was still billowing from the crash site.

“You’ve seen the sight of the terror twins after a battle with Devastator? Ratchet’s basically a miracle worker and he stands by his oath to do no harm.”

They stood, side by side and watched from a distance as the Autobots loaded the smoking and twisted ruin of Thundercracker’s and Sunstreaker’s frames into Optimus Prime’s trailer. They moved them as one frame, as if they couldn’t be separated in the field. 

Skywarp’s spark pulsed at the thought of Thundercracker melted partially against a grounder’s frame. Thundercracker hated ground frames. Couldn’t stand them. He’d be so grumpy about it.

The Autobot medic climbed in to the trailer with Skywarp’s brother.

They watched as the Autobots transformed and drove back toward their base. It wasn’t far from the clearing they were in now.

The Autobot Second and Third in Command, Prowl and Jazz remained behind and made their way across the field toward the two seekers. 

“Can you warp us back to the ship?” Starscream asked.

Skywarp shook his helm. He didn’t even want to try.

“We fly then," Starscream stated as he looked from the approaching Autobots to Skywarp. "The Autobots will be contacting Megatron shortly. It’ll be best if we can inform him what occurred first.”

Skywarp’s turbines whined and Starscream grabbed Skywarp’s chin so he had to look him in the optics.

“The terror twins attacked us while we were flying off duty. They disabled your warp ability with an unknown device. That’s the story.”

Skywarp nodded. 

Starscream transformed and shot into the sky. Skywarp watched the approaching Autobots rushing toward him, motioning him to stay. 

Skywarp transformed and followed his trine leader, like a proper Third. 

As they reached the Nemesis, Skywarp reminded himself that at this distance, it wasn’t unusual to not he feel Thundercracker’s bond anymore. If a seeker was offline but not deactivated, that was normal.

His brother was alive. 

Sunstreaker was dead. 

Which was lucky for him because if the yellow Autobot was alive, Skywarp would find it in himself to focus long enough to _vop_ the psychotic frontliner right into a wall, and watch the light fade from his optics. 

Sparks couldn’t rotate through solid rock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ducks back into the pillow fort I surrounded myself with last chapter.


	4. Foundation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tucks you in, and nudges some tissues*

Skywarp stood rigidly behind Starscream in his proper position as Third, focus locked on the approaching Autobots.

Four days had passed before the Autobots contacted the Nemesis. Starscream never stopped pacing and snapping at any one around him and Skywarp stood silently out of the way with barely a twitch of his plating.

Both of them had barely remembered to recharge or fuel. When one of them had been about to drop, the other would force him to go recharge for a few joors. One of the remaining two trine members always remained on the bridge.

Waiting.

When the call finally came, it wasn’t Optimus Prime on the screen, and there was no negotiation. 

The Autobot medic looked exhausted. Plating dull and optics dim, Ratchet looked worse than Skywarp and Starscream combined.

He used a lot of technical terms: cortex infarction, thrombosis, occlusion -

But Skywarp’s world had focused down to a hollow narrow tube after Ratchet apologized for being unable to save Thundercracker. 

Starscream had listened raptly and snarled questions at the medic on monitor. His field lashed in grief against Skywarp’s though he had pulled his own in tight. Agony shot through the bond toward Skywarp, grasping, searching for support.

Skywarp had poked at the emptiness in his spark where his brother’s trine bond should be. It hadn’t felt real, it still didn’t. There had been nothing but focus transmitted along the bond from Thundercracker after an initial burst of surprise and interest. 

His brother hadn’t pulsed or transmitted a final message to Skywarp. 

Thundercracker couldn’t be deactivated. 

It hadn’t even been a battle.

It was senseless.

Starscream had slammed his fist down to cut the transmission after arranging for Thundercracker’s frame to be returned the following cycle and marched Skywarp to their quarters. They could hear Megatron’s rant about the waste in Thundercracker’s deactivation and cursing the terror twins in their wake.

As soon as the door to their quarters had cycled shut behind Starscream, Skywarp was wrapped in a tight hug. His own arms hung useless at his side.

Starscream had poured out his grief and rage as he held Skywarp close on the berth. Eventually Starscream’s rage turned toward Skywarp’s own numb indifference.

_What’s wrong with you? Don’t you even care?_

_This is all your fault._

_You and your stupid glitched ability, why couldn’t you just be normal._

Every word stung, hauntingly familiar as Starscream echoed the words of his guardians, and Skywarp wrapped them in his cortex, committing them to memory. 

All true.

Ultimately Starscream had stalked out of their quarters, frustrated and enraged with Skywarp’s lack of reaction.

And Skywarp had laid there on his back, in the middle of the berth large enough for three seekers, and stared at the ceiling. Why couldn’t he feel anything but numb and stupid?

They were waiting now, next to Megatron and Soundwave for Thundercracker’s remains.

This was the first time Skywarp had seen Starscream since he stalked out, but he had felt the grief still pouring from their bond. The Autobots had requested the additional day to make Thundercracker’s empty frame more presentable before returning it. The Decepticon delegation watched as the Autobot second in command and weapons specialist wheeled the mobile stretcher out of Prime’s trailer. They left Thundercracker, with a thermoblanket over his lower half in the field and respectfully retreated a distance away.

Skywarp was convinced he only needed to see his brother’s grey frame, then he would finally feel the grief Starscream expected him to feel and he vopped to his side.

Looking at Thundercracker’s dark optics and mangled frame sporting fresh welds, he simply poked at the empty place in his spark and felt nothing.

Walking closer and circling the stretcher, Skywarp tilted his own helm to the side as he took in the shell that use to be his brother. The side of Thundercracker’s helm looked funny and he reached forward to nudge it for a better look.

“I wouldn’t do that mech. It’s not pretty.” The Autobot third in command stated from where he stood next to Prime, his second in command, and his weapons specialist a distance away. The Autobots were all tense, as if expecting an attack despite the negotiated truce for this meeting.

The invisible Autobot was probably stalking around somewhere and the paranoid fraggers probably had minibots in the bushes.

Skywarp chuckled at the thought of hoards of minibots bursting from the trees and bushes with sticks and rocks like those furry little creatures from the movie with the laser swords Thundercracker liked to watch.

Indignation flared through their trine bond toward Skywarp, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Tilting Thundercracker’s helm to the side, he saw a temporary patch had been applied. Crouching low so he was at optic level with it, he poked it.

The smell of burnt circuits reached his olfactory sensors and he could see partially through the side of the patch. Thundercracker’s cortex was melted into slag and Skywarp poked at the void in his spark. Megatron and Prime were exchanging words, and he dismissed them as unimportant. Megatron never missed an opportunity to goad his rival.

His brother’s cockpit was shattered and thick welds crossed his front in a precise pattern. Tapping at them, tilting his helm as he considered them, squinting.

Stepping out of time, Skywarp examined the weld lines from all angles at once as if calculating a vop. From one particular angle, the way one weld curved just so -

Reality twisted and resumed as he vopped so he was standing on the stretcher, pedes straddling both sides of Thundercracker’s helm as he loomed over Thundercracker’s cockpit. Off to the side, at just the right angle…the shape resolved in his processor and his spark clenched as he finally felt _something_.

“What do you think you’re doing you idiot?” Starscream screeched and stalked toward him.

The Autobots were shifting and shuffling their plating but that wasn’t important.

Offlining one optic, then the other, playing with the parallax of the familiar shape -

A dog. It kinda looked like -

Just as Starscream approached, Skywarp vopped back down beside him.

“What are we going to tell Buster?” Skywarp’s wings drooped low. Buster was smart, Thundercracker had taught her all kind of commands, but Skywarp didn’t know how he was going to teach her the command for your favourite being isn’t coming back.

Starscream sputtered and smacked him on the side of his helm. 

“That’s your first concern? You haven’t spoken in cycles and the first thing you do is _laugh_ at Thundercracker’s melted cortex, and the first thing you say, the first thing you _feel_ , is concern about that stupid organic thing?”

Starscream frustrated with him. That at least was familiar to Skywarp and easy to offer a response too.

“She’s not stupid and I wasn’t laughing at Thundercracker’s melted circuits, I was laughing at the thought of Autobot minibots bursting from the - you know what? You wouldn’t even appreciate it if I told you. But Thundercracker would.” Meeting Starscream’s glare Skywarp’s wings hiked high as he crossed his arms in front of him.

“Can you not even focus for this!?” Starscream gestured irately at Thundercracker’s grey frame. 

_Bitterness. Fury. Frustration. Agony. Anguish._

All knotted in a tiny malformed lump and hurled at Skywarp through their bond.

Detached, Skywarp poked at it in response. He knew what those emotions were, but he couldn’t _feel_ them. 

This wasn’t his reality. It couldn’t be.

“You and your stupid _glitched_ cortex!” Starscream shrieked and jabbed Skywarp’s cockpit. Calling Skywarp glitched, was normally a sure fire way to get a reaction from Skywarp, especially from Starscream. 

Thundercracker called him a glitch in a way that was endearing - had called him.

But all Skywarp could do was wonder what was under the sheet that was draped over his brother’s lower half.

Starscream loomed in front of him, searching his optics intently. “Can you even understand you are responsible for this? Or is _this_ boring you too?”

Servos clamped on his shoulders and shook him hard but Skywarp dropped his arms from in front of him and his focus flitted back to that sheet. What might be under it?

“Unbelievable!” Starscream toss his servos up into the air and screeched. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were worthy.”

And Starscream abruptly shut Skywarp out of their trine bond. Skywarp poked absently at that block too.

Duo bond? Dyad? What were they now?

Crossing his arms over his cockpit Starscream glared at him. 

“Because of _you_ , Thundercracker is deactivated. All because you were _bored_ and wanted to go _play_ with those vicious pit spawned twins of Unicron.” Spitting reality out of his vocalizer, each of Starscream’s words oozed acid, melting deep into Skywarp’s spark.

The empty place in his spark echoed all wrong, and twisting and probing around it at all angles yielded nothing. Grasping desperately toward that void, then shrinking away from its nothingness in a continuous loop was all Skywarp could seem to do.

What reality without -

“I was under the impression those _vicious pit spawned twins of Unicorn_ ambushed Thundercracker while the three of you were flying off duty.” Megatron’s shadow loomed over them.

Conversations continued around Skywarp, oblivious to his racing spark and processor spiraling out in all directions grasping for purchase, something solid in his reality that would make sense. 

A new foundation now his had exploded into cinders.

Starscream’s wings hitched high and he whipped around to face Megatron. “My Lord, of course. In my grief I -“

“Prime!” Megatron shouted as if on a battle field turning his attention from Starscream and pushing him aside. The Autobots shifted, and Skywarp was locked standing completely still, but inside he was scrambling. Shifting. Searching.

“You can’t possibly believe what an Autobot says over me, your loyal second in command!” Starscream shrieked in outrage shooting Prime a pleading look from behind Megatron.

Prime stepped forward. “Sideswipe reported Skywarp was the aggressor and appeared behind him with a blaster pressed against his helm.” 

_That voice._

After Prime’s response, Megatron rounded on Starscream, latching his servo around his intake.

Numbness melted away and Skywarp’s processor desperately darted and dodged around the edges of his new reality, straining to engage Skywarp in _anything_ other than the empty void in his spark. 

Melted like -

Skywarp had caused -

Prime’s voice…

Laugher burst from his vocalizer at a sudden memory and he spun on his heel strut, pointing at Prime. “You! Sideswipe’s impression of _you_ was spot on.” 

The Autobots shared glances amongst themselves. Ironhide's arms loosened from where they had been crossed defensively in front of him.

“You’ve all heard it right?” Without waiting for a response, Skywarp crossed his arms over his cockpit but couldn’t keep his faceplate blank from the grin tugging at his mouth as he attempted to be serious.

He cleared his vocalizer.

“I expect better of you two after all this t-t-time.” Skywarp attempted his best Optimus Prime voice but couldn’t get through it without sputtered laughter on the last word.

“Wait wait wait. I’ll try again.” He waved his servos in front of him as if his audience was going to interrupt him, then crossed his arms back over his cockpit.

“I expect better of you two after all this time.” This time he managed to make it through without laughing, and he thought his impression was pretty good. Looking at his audience of Autobots with a faceplate splitting grin, none of them were laughing. 

Glancing back at Megatron, who was sure to be amused because he was mocking his nemesis, he didn’t get the reaction he expected. Megatron loosened his grip on Starscream’s intake looked at Skywarp with a slight widening of his optics, and Starscream just gapped at him.

No reaction then. Odd. Skywarp could normally make Megatron smirk with his Prime jokes. Soundwave shifted and Skywarp decided to consider _that_ a laugh and shuttered an optic at him.

“Soundwave gets it.” He tossed a thumb in Soundwave’s direction as he returned his attention back to the Autobots.

“Maybe I didn’t get The Look right in the delivery…” Skywarp scowled as something he did not want to confront flitted across the edge of his cortex. Focusing his awareness everywhere and nowhere he vopped directly in front of Optimus Prime in a flash of purple.

The Prime’s optics were comically huge at his appearance, and Skywarp giggled.

“Do it. Do _The Look_.” He begged with his air quotes and hopping up and down in place, ignoring the blasters pointed at him upon his arrival.

“Sky-“

“Skywarp! I am a mech of my word. There will be no violence as we retrieve your trine mate’s frame. Stop antagonizing Autobots.” Megatron’s command cut off what was most likely going to be an admonishment from Starscream. 

Skywarp jutted out his bottom lip in a pout and vopped back to his original location by Starscream and Megatron.

Kill joys.

Megatron had released his grip on Starscream’s intake and stood considering Skywarp as if he were one of Starscream’s vials Skywarp would mix together randomly. Starscream stood rigid, servos balled in to fists and wings hiked high, flared and quivering.

Skywarp held up his servos. “Wait, wait. Let me explain! So apparently Prime throws Sunstreaker a _look_ when he kills unarmed Decepticons and throws him in a hole and it makes Sunstreaker _sad_.” He could barely finish his sentence, he was laughing so hard his frame shook.

Megatron took a slow step back.

The rest of the muddled conversation Skywarp had overheard between the twins flitted through his processor and he stopped abruptly mid-laugh. Grasping along the side of his helm, he dug his servos in hard.

“They weren’t even going to kill me!” Skywarp screamed through clenched denta as he stomped once.

Starscream closed the distance between them, placing a servo on his shoulder. His trine leader’s wings were so low, that wasn’t right. Vos had never seen a seeker like Starscream, he flew as if he commanded the winds themselves. He was proud, confident, arrogant and - Skywarp internally recoiled from the uncomfortable _nothingness_ in his spark and he offlined his optics.

Starting small, his frame began to shake as he hung his helm. As the shaking increased his vocalizer began to wheeze static, his vents strained and gasped. Audible laughter finally burst out as he online his optics and Starscream recoiled, removing his servo as if Skywarp’s plating shot him with charge.

Skywarp tried to explain what was so funny through sputtered laughter.

“Sunstreaker. Vicious-impossibly shiny-growly-psychopathic berserker of doom was controlled by a _look_ and a _hole_.”

Absolutely ludicrous. Nonsensical.

Grasping at the sides of his helm again he started to scream. 

His brother didn’t even want to fight in the stupid war anymore. Thundercracker had plans. Dreams. Tired of the destruction, he wanted prove he had created something. Thundercracker would never see his name in credits because his little glitch of a brother had been _bored_ and wanted to play with psychopaths!

Reality for Skywarp stopped and restarted multiple times as he focused his awareness to vopping, aching to distract himself from grasping at the void in his spark.

No where and anywhere, he appeared and disappeared as rapidly as he could throughout the clearing. Faster and faster, no time to think, no time to feel, he could still see the purple flash from three previous vops as he selected a fourth position.

“DON’T MOVE YOU IDIOTS!” Starscream screeched.

Up high. Left. Right. Upside down. Among the Autobots. 

He challenged his perceptions to the limit to see how fast he could vop among them without merging his plating. No time to relish in any startled expressions. 

Faster, faster, faster - he pushed his ability beyond limits he had ever cared to explore. Flashes of purple littered the field, rapid fire _vops_ filled the air in deafening staccato -

\- like a sonic boom.

His spark skipped a rotation under the strain.

He miscalculated.

A twig merged with his pede.

_Vop._

Then some grass.

_Vop._

Stopping in the middle of the clearing between the Autobots and Decepticons, Skywarp hunched over, vents tossed opened wide as he cycled large ventilations to cool his overheated frame and calming his skipping spark.

Something buzzed and wiggled in his intake. He cycled a cough and a yellow and black organic flying insect wadded out into his servo.

A bee. He remembered the time Buster had eaten a bee. She yelped once but continued to eat as it stung the inside of her mouth. Her human assigned guardians told Thundercracker not to worry, she’d done it before and she wasn’t allergic. 

Skywarp chuckled as he stared at the oral lubricant wadded insect and it gave one last feeble twitch. Thundercracker had landed in a vet parking lot and waited there uncomfortably in jet mode among the cars. 

His brother hated being on the ground. Skywarp frowned and he grasped for purchase, for _something_.

_Vop._

Standing on the stretcher table. Laughing at the shape in the welding lines.

_Vop._

In front of Soundwave. His servos mimicking guns and clicking twice out the side of his mouth, a gesture he’d learned from the stupid human shows his brother liked to watch in Buster’s barn.

_Vop._

Beside the bushes. Poke and giggle for Ewok minibots.

_Vop._

By Thundercracker’s helm. Poke. “Wakey wakey.” Snort. Giggle.

_Vop._

At his brother’s pedes and lifting up the sheet. “Ew gross.” Giggles.

_Vop._

On Buster’s farm. 

Buster barked and ran off the porch toward him wagging her tail. Skywarp dropped to his knees and screamed while clutching his helm.

“He’s not coming back.” He finally whimpered in her direction and was gone in a flash of purple before she reached him.

_Vop._

Freefalling from above the tree line over his brother empty frame he heard shouts that didn’t matter and stopped his reality the instant before their forehelms pressed together. He stayed suspended there and nowhere in his personal purgatory, beyond time, staring into his brother’s dark optics. 

Stretching his awareness to all the solid objects nearby he wondered how it would feel for a spark to stop spinning in an instant.

_Vop._

Landing with an hard _oomf_ beside the stretcher that held Thundercracker’s empty frame, he hit the ground without bothering to return his velocity to zero for a vop from motion to stationary. 

Pushing himself to standing, he spoke to his brother with a grin and a chuckle.

“Guess Sunstreaker got out of monitor duty after all. Too bad Sideswipe won’t ever get to enjoy the cycle off I won him.”

“What do you mean mech?” Skywarp looked up to the Autobot’s Third in Command. The dagger Decepticons feared in the dark.

The Autobots were all standing extremely rigid, their attention locked on him. The blue mech who could go invisible was visible a distance away from the others. Huh. It never occurred to Skywarp to worry he might vop and merge into Mirage without knowing it. 

He should probably be concerned about that. 

Skywarp pointed at him and Mirage flinched. 

“I strongly suggest _you_ never go in my room. Actually it would be better if you never went on the Nemesis at all but let’s be honest that’s not likely. So it’s probably best you at least stay close to the walls and corners of the rooms and the corridors. I’d rather not vop my frame into yours when you are invisible.” Skywarp wrinkled his nasal ridge at the thought.

Then he vopped so his faceplate was inches from the former noble mech.

“I’m _unpredictable_.” He whispered with a manic grin.

And he vopped back beside Thundercracker before the vibroblade that appeared quickly in the mech’s servo could slide between his plating.

Laughing again as the Autobots looked uncertainly between themselves and over his shoulder at Megatron and Starscream, he cut his laughter off abrubtly and frowned down at Thundercracker’s dark optics.

“There was one mech that predicted me once. Too bad he’s deactivated. I’m going to miss the challenge of playing with that crazy red fragger.” He ghosted a gentle digit down the side of his brother’s grey faceplate and tried to quirk up the one side of is brother’s mouth into Thundercracker’s half cocked smile. 

Dropping his hand to his side when it wouldn’t stay, he shrugged, crossed his arms over his cockpit and laughed while focusing back on the Autobots. “And seriously how did his fragging twin always stay so shiny? Who has the time? Did he ever do anything other than growl and scowl. Heh that rhymes.”

“You talking about Sideswipe and Sunstreaker mech?” Ugh couldn’t any body keep up with Skywarp’s thoughts?

_Thundercracker could._

He poked at the void again before he responded.

“Yea. I mean if he hasn’t deactivated already, Sideswipe’ll deactivate soon. Split sparks and all that.” He put his servos together then split them apart with the sound effects of an explosion from his vocalizer then chuckled about -

“Sunstreaker’s still online.”

Arms frozen in the air where they had been mimicking split sparks exploding, all expression cleared from Skywarp’s faceplate. His attention - _his full attention_ \- locked and focused onto Jazz as he finally found a foundation for his new reality.

“What.” 

Jazz shared a look with the second in command and Prime, took a few steps forward from the group with his servos out showing he was unarmed.

Or as if he was trying to calm a wild mechanimal.

Skywarp generally never cared to control his flopping limbs as he sprawled over furniture while his cortex flitted from one thought or half finished task to the next.

Now however, every movement was controlled. Slowly and deliberately, he lowered his arms to rest his open palms on the stretcher next to Thundercracker as he straightened his helm from where it had been cocked to the side, and he raised his wings in a high flare.

“Sideswipe said his brother tried to bail but his forearm and blade were jammed and pinched from where he’d stabbed through the seams in Thundercracker’s plating.” Jazz explained.

Skywarp slowly dragged his digits towards his palm causing prolonged scraping sounds against the metal of stretcher that held the empty frame of his brother; the light of Skywarp’s life.

Jazz took another slow step forward.

“Both Sunstreaker and Thundercracker were slagged in that crash. Parts of their frames had melted together in the heat of the flames. Bluestreak almost had to sedate Sideswipe so we could get close. Prowl and I, we tried to get you to stay you remember?” A gesture was made to the black and white Praxian.

Skywarp gave a slow nod, still slowly clawing his digits toward his palms.

“Ratchet had the medical staff and our entire science team in the Medbay to extract both their sparks as one. Their sparks had merged and it was almost three cycles before Ratchet and his team managed to separate them. Every time they tried to separate them, Sunstreaker’s spark started to gutter and retreated back to merge with Thundercracker's. Once they were separated, well its difficult enough to keep _one spark_ functional while separated from their frame. And Thundercracker’s cortex…”

Jazz gestured to Thundercracker’s helm. Skywarp didn’t take his focus off Jazz. He knew exactly what he could see there, from all possible angles in an instant if he wished.

“He didn’t suffer. His spark was strong, but it seemed as if he was holding out to support Sunstreaker’s until they could be separated. Once they were separated he just…kinda started to fade, and Ratchet tried, but he couldn’t repair the damage to his cortex before he guttered. We don’t have the materials on this planet or mechs with the skill to fix that extensive cortex damage. Maybe with time…but his spark didn’t make it.”

Skywarp’s digits finished scrapping across the surface and had balled in to fists. 

“Sunstreaker has heat resistant armor, his cortex was fully intact but his spark casing was ruptured by parts of Thundercracker’s frame. Without his twin…” The Autobots shifted uncomfortably behind Jazz and shared looks between them. “Well his spark wouldn’t have stabilized at all. Ratchet’s still rebuilding his frame but thinks with time, he’ll pull through.”

Skywarp’s processor started racing with possibilities. Angles and perspectives of his outlier ability he never had the focus to explore.

Just how long would it take to merge a mech into a wall -

Bit. By. Bit.

His new foundation shook. Thundercracker would be horrified - 

Sunstreaker had seen to it Thundercracker never felt anything again. His cursed half spark had leeched off Thundercracker’s own nobility for survival - used him up. 

Stabilized. 

“It was a fluke mech. A series of events no one could have predicted. I mean, how often have those two punched you seekers and bailed? No one would have guessed Sunstreaker would ever get stuck. Still don’t know how it happened, Sideswipe doesn’t know and his brother’s not online yet to ask.”

Could Skywarp separate the individual molecules from an arm merged into a wall and merge it again and again?

Jazz offered no more further information so Skywarp shifted his attention to Prime and carefully loosened his clenched servos and calculatingly lowered his wings.

“Thank you for returning his frame to us.” He offered politely.

“We are sorry for your trine’s loss.” Prime nodded to Skywarp and made optic contact with Megatron before the Autobots transformed and left.

An awkward silence was left among the Decepticons as the Autobot’s engines faded into the distance and before Megatron or Starstream could speak and give him and order, Skywarp vopped away in a flash of purple.

Standing in the middle of his room in the Nemesis, he tracked the Autobots through his reality, occasionally stopping time to send out his awareness to check how far along on the highway they travelled. Skywarp had flown over that highway many times.

Based on his calculations of their velocities between observations they were abiding by the human speed limits, probably out of respect to the human drivers that surrounded them. When he determined they had travelled a significant enough distance away from Soundwave’s awareness and observations, he prepared to vop.

This was possibly the most complicated vop he had ever calculated. The human cars were a unpredictable variable compared to Cybertronian reflexes and what he was about to do held a large element of risk.

He never would have bothered to focus long enough for something this complicated before.

But his new reality without his brother demanded more. He was going up against _Sunstreaker_ , the Autobot’s pet psychopath, and Skywarp refused to put any other Decepticon, especially Starscream, in danger.

Fuel pump racing and spark clenched tight for what he was about to attempt, he had to focus all his awareness - and do this alone. This was for his brother, and for his trine.

It would have been easier to settle on a solid location like a median, a wall, a building or off to the side of the road. Instead he observed the relative distances of the Autobots and the human cars on the multilane highway -

And vopped. 

\- appearing, standing in the middle of the road with his servos held behind his back.

Startled humans swerved behind the wheel of their cars causing some to careen toward medians and into each other.

The Autobots had managed to avoid a pile up. Jazz transformed and twisted to avoid a collision with human cars and slid on his pedes along the median, his weapons pointed at Skywarp.

Prowl and Mirage managed to transform and stop some humans from spinning out of control at terminal speeds.

Ironhide transformed and slid, sparks shooting from his pede’s friction on the pavement, weapons locked on Skywarp. 

Prime managed to brake to a stop, but not until after he had bumped into a human car. The car pushed forward toward Skywarp and bummed slightly against his left pede.

Skywarp didn’t flinch or move his optics from Prime the moment he appeared in the middle of the highway in a flash of purple light.

_Presentation!_

Quirking up right the side of his mouth, at the thought. He’d learned that from one of his brother’s movies once. 

The Prime transformed, powering up his weapons, but looked torn between blasting Skywarp or helping the humans who couldn’t manage to scramble from their cars. Mirage and Prowl quickly added their weapons to the ones pointing at him after they freed some humans.

“What do you want Skywarp.” The Prime’s tone left no question - he was a mech accustom to issuing orders and expecting them to be followed.

Skywarp had never been good at following orders, his brother had mostly kept him in line.

“I trapped a seeker’s wings in a wall once.” He began his monologue obtusely. A car behind him caught fire with an electrical crackle and a pop. “The screams he made - well let’s just say they stayed with every seeker who was present that day. And that was _before_ they started to cut him out.”

Slowly and deliberately he unclasped his servos from behind his back and held them out in front of himself to show he was unarmed. “It was an accident. I’ve been ever so careful since to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” And he gave them his most wide optic innocent stare to hide his fear while his spark raced.

The Autobots shared confused glances, probably chatting over comms.

“Good thing too because could you image if I _wasn’t_ careful?” Motioning concerned at the chaos he had caused in the middle of the highway. A second car had started to billow black smoke. 

All emotion cleared from his faceplace and he returned his focus to the Autobots. 

“I’d hate for all Ratchet’s hard work to get stuck in a rock. Repeatedly.” He smiled innocently at them again as his fuel pump throbbed. “By accident of course.”

The Autobots went to object but he cut them off. This was _his time_ and he was showing them their new reality.

“Do you have any idea how complicated the calculations are to transport mass through time and space? How many variables?” He parroted the words Starscream had said to him the day he had been beyond impressed with Skywarp’s ability.

“Everything in the universe is in motion. The galaxy rotates and moves laterally. The solar system moves within it. The planet we stand on orbits a star and rotates on its axis. That doesn’t even factor in multiple moving objects controlled by sentient beings,“ he smirked remembering the bee, “or bugs.”

Starscream had tried to get Skywarp to study his ability. But it had been dull and not at all the thrill he felt when he used it. And because of relative motion, he didn’t actually have to factor in the rotation of the galaxy or the movement of the solar system. 

He did have to factor in the rotation of this planet when we was flying through. Cybertron didn’t rotate on its axis. Figuring out how to account for the the rotation of the Earth while he vopped from flying after they onlined out of stasis on this planet had been awful. 

Coriolis effect. Skywarp never wanted to sit through Starscream’s lectures in dynamics again. 

He just vopped.

Skywarp didn’t even know if he _could_ vop to the moon. He’d been too afraid to try. 

Maybe it was worth a try now. Maybe he could vop Sunstreaker into the sun. Or Mars.

“Sentient objects are the hardest to predict.” He nudged the car that was resting against his pedes forward. The human inside had opened the door and fled.

“I miscalculated my _vop_ here.” He punctuated the _p_ at the end of the name he had given his outlier ability.

“This car wasn’t suppose to actually reach my pede.” Prowl understood the implication first as his doorwings arched high. The car touching Skywarp’s pede was his _only_ miscalculation. 

“Vop.” He chuckled. “It’s a silly name for such a complicated outlier ability. Starscream hates it.”

Sirens could be heard in the distance. Human emergency workers making their way to the scene.

“Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Pain and Death. Did you know Decepticons call them that in hushed whispers?”

Jazz’ visor light went hard, and Mirage shifted.

“See the thing about my ability, is that my outlier spark affected my cortex and processor development in order to handle it. I calculate a _vop_ faster than you can - oh I don’t know - say _gliched_.” Skywarp examined his digits while he stuffed down his nervousness they might call his bluff. 

Technically he could step outside into a different reality where time didn’t exist and think about his decision and angles, possibly indefinitely, but they didn’t need to know that. Even Starscream didn’t know Skywarp’s own limits, and Skywarp hadn’t cared before.

“A side effect of my ability, my _vop_ is that when my processor, isn’t stimulated, isn’t _focused_ on something important, generally something that involves a miscalculation that could get me killed - I get _bored_.” He flicked an tiny piece of dust off his palm.

“I liked to tease Pain and Death for _fun_.” He raised his optics to the Prime and smiled.

“We’ve been fighting for millions of vorns and you are telling us you haven’t even been trying?” Ironhide scoffed.

“No.” Skywarp kept his focus locked on the Prime. “I’m telling you it’s not fun anymore.”

“Skywarp, I understand the loss of a trine member can be painful. I will ensure you will receive any support you need within our resources if the support from your comrades are inadequate. A trine bond is similar to that of a conjunx endura bond is it not?” The Prime placed a servo over his own chest as Jazz and Ironhide shot their Prime incredulous looks.

Unbelievable. Maybe Skywarp had been too cryptic in his attempt at dramatic effect. Prime was going off script because he thought Skywarp was coming to the Autobots for _hugs_?

“Oh that’s just precious.” Skywarp barked a laugh and Prowl’s doorwings twitched while Jazz coiled tighter. “You call yourself a Prime and you don’t even know how seeker’s trine?”

“Vos was an isolationist culture and Optimus became Prime after it fell. The seekers of Vos sided with the Decepticons.” Ironhide defended.

“Having your city blown up isn’t the best recruiting tactic.” Skywarp retorted with a glare.

“Neither is retaliating with destroying a neutral city.” Prowl responded acidly.

Skywarp’s spark clenched and he couldn’t control his wings from twitching.

Praxus. The neutral city that started Thundercracker’s guilt and distain for the war. Then there were the sparkling centers. Thundercracker had been miserable for vorns but had finally started to find a peace on this stupid dirt ball.

“Thundercracker never forgave Starscream for making him participate in that.” Skywarp clenched his servos in to fists. “They were fighting about it _again_ the day I -“

The day _Sunsteaker_ killed him. He cemented the foundation of his new reality without Thundercracker in his cortex.

“Skywarp what do you want?” Prime asked as he subspaced his weapon. Ironhide made a noise of protest over his action.

“I wanted to come here to tell you I noticed something about your twins.” His statement caused the Autobots to shift uncertainly and share looks between themselves.

“The other day I noticed Sideswipe and I are kind of similar. Sideswipe seems like he gets bored and likes to play games too.” Skywarp shot them a cheeky smile.

“You want us to set up a play date for your two or something?” Jazz chuckled.

“Or something.” Skywarp bounced on his pedes. “Sunstreaker had his servo around my intake, and everything was pretty blurry at the time, but I saw that Sideswipe holds his psychotic brother’s leash.” 

Amusement at his childish behaviour changed to uncertainty as Skywarp stood suddenly still and cleared his faceplate of expression. “That’s something else we had in common: brother’s holding leashes.” 

Prowl seemed to understand Skywarp’s implications first. Followed by Jazz.

“Can you imagine how _Sunstreaker_ would react if Sideswipe ever deactivated and he managed to survive?” And sudden understanding dawned on Prime, Mirage and Ironhide’s faces.

“I imagine he would tear whatever mech responsible apart slowly and enjoy every agonized scream. I imagine it would be kinder to deactivate the mech before he got ahold of his prey.” He let his wings hike high and flare. “Your medic fragged up. He saved the wrong brother. With split sparks, one extinguishes after the other so what Sunstreaker would do if Sideswipe guttered, is really just theoretical. But you’ll find I’m suddenly finding myself incredibly focused to operated at the limits of my vop.”

“Why not just take your revenge? Why tell us” Jazz asked, finally seeming to understand Skywarp’s point.

“Because it doesn’t matter. We can’t stop him.” Prowl stated, optics locked on Skywarp as if calculating the implications. “Not with what he just shared about his ability.” The black and white mech could not have left Skywarp with a better opening.

“Precisely.” Skywarp smirked darkly and flared his optical sensors as he spread out his arms wide. “In my reality, I’m Prime.”

In a flash of purple, Skywarp vopped back to his quarters as if he had never left. 

He collapsed on the berth and worked on calming his racing spark. Primus. If he was going to pretend to be some kind of mastermind to scare Autobots he had to work on his monologuing, Prime almost ruined everything. 

Twisting his faceplate into a scowl he stared at the ceiling as he poked at the void in his spark and finally felt something other than numb.

He wondered how much it would hurt for a mech that could rage past the point of feeling pain if Skywarp learned how to separate a vopped object from another.

_Thundercracker would be horrified._

Skywarp recoiled from that thought and focused on the foundation of his new reality without his brother.

He was going to merge _Sunstreaker _into a wall.__

__Repeatedly._ _

__Pft._ _

__How hard could it be to figure that out?_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **fhc-lynn** came up with the headcanon Skywarp refers to with “Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are really named Pain and Death”. Here’s [the link to the post](https://fhc-lynn.tumblr.com/post/153515916606/on-names) that has more excellent metadiscussion on Cybertronian names as well as this part that inspired me for Skywarp’s monologue and the Decepticon’s perception of the twins. 
> 
> _“I haven’t seen this, so I’m just going to put this out there. The pre-production name for Sunstreaker was Spin Out. Which fits in as a brother to Sideswipe. Those are both types of accidents. I’ve even read a couple of questions about why they changed it._
> 
>  _I humbly put forth this theory: It was changed to reflect level of danger._  
>  Sideswipe - an often full body collision frequently capable of causing massive amounts of damage.  
> Sunstreaker - poetical way to name a solar flare. Solar flares being dangerous to electronic, often to the point of burning their little brains out, and Cybertronians having electronic brains…  
> Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are really named Pain and Death.” ~ fhc-lynn


	5. Flashes of Purple

Skywarp had thought the hardest part of plotting to kill Sunstreaker was going to be keeping Starscream unaware of his trine member’s apparent death wish.

His trine leader’s keen observations and brilliant mind had a way of weaseling out Skywarp’s secrets when he was hiding something. But when Skywarp returned to the Nemesis after threatening the Autobots, he had notifications informing him his flight schedule had been cleared. 

No duties were assigned in their place.

He spent his sudden free time locked in the Command Trine’s quarters fighting his instincts and obsessively vopping objects into walls.

Ever since that seeker had flinched when Skywarp had vopped, resulting his wings being merged with a wall, Skywarp had been exceedingly careful.

Thundercracker had taken his shaking brother home and wrapped his arms around him. Stroking his helm, he whispered assurances to Skywarp. 

It had been an accident. 

What they were saying wasn’t true.

Skywarp wasn’t a monster, Thundercracker had said.

He loved him and believed in him, his brother had assured.

He trusted him.

A miscalculation on Skywarp’s part cost a seeker his wings and caused permanent psychological damage.

Guilt ate deep at his spark.

After that day, Skywarp had never considered vop solutions that would result in an object he was holding to appear in a solid object. Those solutions were disturbing to _feel_ anyway. When he took an object with him, it was as if it was an extension of his frame. 

Now he was starting to run out of wall space in his quarters.

Shards of scrap metal jutted out of the ceiling and walls. Pipes, wires, any bits of his collection of joke supplies reached out in disjointed union of Skywarp's imaginative technical skills and the driving need to fill that gaping hole in his spark. 

Only his expansive berth, large enough for three seekers to recharge comfortably, and the few belongings Thundercracker kept on the Nemesis remained unmerged in the chaos. 

Skywarp vopped everything, and everywhere now. If he needed something moved, he vopped it. If he needed to go somewhere, even a few steps, he vopped.

The berth he vopped perfectly to the middle of the room. A few datapads with Thundercracker’s stories, and ones that held vid files, were arranged perfectly on the edge of the berth. 

Sometimes Skywarp would lay in the dark quarters with his surroundings only illuminated by the screen of a datapad as he watched Thundercracker’s favourite movies. In those moments he could hear Thundercracker’s witty dry commentary, and in the darkness, he could almost pretend his brother was watching with him - 

\- if not for the empty void in his spark.

The datapads full of stories Skywarp never onlined. Thundercracker hated when Skywarp would sneak a peek at them. Fantasy. Fiction. Thundercracker had called it.

Those datapads were now the only thing left of Thundercracker’s hope and dreams. And Skywarp was afraid he’d break them if he so much as looked at them.

Other than the few human vid files Thundercracker loved, and kept hidden from Starscream to avoid another confrontation, his brother had kept few of his possessions on the Nemesis. 

The rest were located in Buster’s barn. There, an expansive wall of human vidscreens had been networked together in front of a couch Skywarp had fashioned out of crushed and dented automobiles he’d vopped from a human scrap yard.

“Our own Iron Throne.” Skywarp had joked.

Skywarp didn’t visit Buster. He couldn’t bear the thought of her wet and hopeful organic optics as she sniffed around for his brother. Buster liked Skywarp well enough, but she _adored_ Thundercracker. He had spoiled the little organic beast rotten. Skywarp did make sure Buster’s caretakers still received credits like Thundercracker had arranged. 

For the first decacycle, Skywarp had tried to be subtle with the objects he merged into the walls. He would move furniture and practice his vops so the object could be covered when he moved the furniture back.

He didn’t want Starscream to ask questions when he returned to recharge.

Three decacycles after Thundercracker’s deactivation, and the couch Skywarp had perched on, as he gleefully read his brother’s story aloud, protruding high up, out of the wall at an angle. Skywarp could still sit on it, reclining suspended over the room. He could stare at the ceiling that jutted scrap metal.

The corner of the couch where Thundercracker had always sat, merged in the wall out of sight.

The Command Trine’s desk stuck out of the floor on its side and could have functioned as an end table if it didn’t sit at an angle that caused cubes of energon to slide crashing down to the floor.

It was there Skywarp sat, precariously perched, as he searched the angles of his reality for a space in the wall for the object currently in his servo.

Skywarp hadn’t seen Starscream since the day they went to gather Thundercracker’s frame. 

He hadn’t seen any Decepticon except those in the mess hall when he vopped in to grab his cubes of jet grade energon.

A hush would descend upon the room at his appearance in a flash of purple.

All those present would freeze mid movement and remain that way until Skywarp filled his cubes and vopped away. He kept a stock pile of them in his room so he wouldn’t have to leave every cycle and confront their accusing optics. 

No reprimand came about him taking more than his daily allotted ration at once.

Considering the object he held in his servo from all angles, he realized he had no wall space for it to go. He could vop it on top of an object already merged in the wall but that didn’t offer the same challenge of the precision required to vop it in at precisely the right angle, so as to merge it with the wall but nothing else.

And Skywarp didn’t relish the thought of tripping on, or merging into little things sticking out of the floor.

Shifting his awareness and perception to the mess hall, he found the perfect spot. The perfect angle.

The cubes in his room where empty anyway.

In a flash of purple he appeared, still crouching, on the table amidst half finished cubes of energon and gaming pieces. 

The motion and noise from the room around him stilled.

The object jutted out from the wall in the precise place he wanted. Tilting his helm to the side, he narrowed his optics at it considering.

It wasn’t _quite_ perfect.

Reaching forward he curled and shaped the digits _just so_ and plucked a half finished cube from the table in front of Hook, positioning the cube of energon so which ever mech sat in this spot had a handy cube holder.

Considering the position a moment longer, he nodded in satisfaction.

“I thought you might need a hand.” His words were rough with static as he used his vocalizer for the first time in three decacycles.

Skywarp chuckled at his pun with a dark rasp. A grin stretched his faceplate as he appreciated his skill - at his _handy_ work - he burst into uncontrollable giggles at that internal pun.

Still giggling, he vopped over to the dispenser to take his cubes of fuel, then back to his quarters.

Considering the pile of parts he had pilfered from Hook’s cold storage bay pile on his floor, he realized Hook hadn’t even yelled at him for piffling from him. Skywarp had gone to visit Thundercracker’s empty frame - to stare at the stupid dogish shape made out of welding lines - then taken the parts for practice. 

Hook was a perfectionist. Moving his tools in the Repair Bay by a fraction set him off into a spitting rage. Skywarp should know, he'd done it enough times.

That he hadn’t at least _tried_ to hit Skywarp in the mess hall for his obvious breach into the medic’s supply room was odd.

_None_ of the Decepticons in the mess hall had reacted to his joke. It should have at least gotten a chuckle from Vortex; the heliformer had a dark sense of humor.

He scowled down at the grey pile of parts from long deactivated mechs as his wings drooped.

Humans called their servos hands.

Thundercracker would have gotten Skywarp’s joke.

…………….…

Now it was obvious to Skywarp: his fellow Decepticons were ignoring him and his plots. Having run out of wall space in his room to practice vopping objects into solid things, he began to practice around the Nemesis.

He’d show them what he planned to do to the beast of a mech that had deactivated his brother and then they could all stop blaming - 

Refusing to finish that line of thought and burying the guilt that threatened to consume him, he focused on the foundation of his new reality.

_Sunstreaker._ Skywarp would never have hurt his brother. 

Unless it was for his brother’s own protection of course. 

There was the time Skywarp shot Thundercracker to keep him from a bombing run on a sparkling center Skywarp knew would destroy him. And the time he trapped him in a cavern that only Skywarp could access, while Megatron went on a rampage about Thundercracker missing a key target on purpose.

Always clever and brilliant, Starscream had eventually managed to redirect Megatron’s anger onto himself; ever the trine leader protecting his trine.

Except now Starscream stayed locked in his lab churning out new methods for energon production, new targets, strategies, and locations. 

New weapons.

Skywarp had vopped in to see him once after he made his pun in the mess hall.

During their first meeting in Skywarp and his brother’s dingy, small apartment - when Skywarp vopped out of Starscream’s grasp, appearing directly behind him - Starscream had only rounded on him in shock. 

He hadn’t _flinched_.

When they trined they broke convention. Their first flight together was _after_ the ceremony. Skywarp had been so nervous for their first flight as trine, and all of Vos was watching. 

Starscream was so popular, and Vos was in scandalized shock and awe as his choice of Second and Third. Skywarp had struggled and strained to keep in formation as a proper Third while he fought his instincts and boredom.

Thundercracker pulsed confidence and support to him along their newly established trine bond in their sparks. His brother’s bond settled into place in Skywarp’s spark and it felt as if he had always held that connection between them.

After the first maneuver, Starscream’s preening confidence and pride he pulsed along their bond morphed into frustration. It was aimed at Skywarp.

After the second maneuver his trine leader snarled at him over the comms and snapped at Skywarp to stop being an idiot and if Starscream wanted a stuffy, old traditional trine he would have accepted Acidstorm’s offer.

:: _My_ trine is going to shake Vos’ very foundation. Show those narrow minded idiots what you can do when you aren’t limited by their rules of proper function and rigid maneuvers. Show them how I have found a talent they thought worthless.:: 

::Show them a _new reality_.::

Thundercracker pulsed pride at Starscream and encouragement toward Skywarp.

::Don’t flinch.:: Skywarp had warned, radiating uncertainty over their bond.

Starscream had scoffed.

::As if I would flinch.::

His new trine leader had pulsed confidence, pride and _trust_ at Skywarp.

As Starscream and Thundercracker performed the ceremonial maneuvers at speeds never before seen, Skywarp vopped, darted, dashed and fell freely amongst his trine member’s swift frames.

Skywarp stepped in and out of his reality and showed all of Vos what he could do under the leadership of a visionary who recognized the worth of breaking conventions - 

Of being able to look at reality from different perspectives.

He showed them all.

In flashes of purple.

Starscream had _never_ flinched at Skywarp’s ability.

There was a first time for everything. 

Starscream’s flinch at Skywarp’s appearance in his lab cut deep into his spark. And Starscream wouldn’t even look at Skywarp, he just kept moving his beakers around with singular focus as the silence stretched awkwardly between them

When Skywarp felt the stirring of Starscream opening their trine bond for the first time in four decacycles, Skywarp vopped away and Starscream snapped it shut again.

It was for the best. 

Skywarp really didn’t want to feel what Starscream thought of him now. Not until after he vopped and merged bits of Sunstreaker around the Nemesis at least.

Might as well scatter a few surrounding the Ark as well.

Skywarp wasn’t suicidal. But he wasn’t going to take the risk of collateral damage that might involve Starscream when the time came to play with the yellow psychopathic twin.

Skywarp was planning to stop his reality and relish in the multiple perspectives of Sideswipe’s anguish. He was going to study and take in that moment of realization when Sideswipe realized his brother wasn’t coming back.

Sideswipe had a lot in common with Skywarp. If situations had been different, they could have been friends.

But Skywarp wasn’t cruel, after all Sideswipe was the lucky one.

Shortly after Sunstreaker deactivated, Sideswipe would deactivate too.

Smiling at the pile of deactivated mech parts on his floor from his perch on the couch hanging half out of the wall, he resolved to start his practice run.

Presentation was important for intimidation.

And he had to practice his puns.

…………….

It didn’t take long after Skywarp had started to leave deactivated Cybertronian parts around the Nemesis before he was summoned to Megatron’s office.

_Soundwave_ had gotten involved.

Apparently Rumble and Frenzy didn’t find it funny when Skywarp vopped around their little hide out in an abandoned storage room where they played video games. The two of them sat frozen on the couch as Skywarp giggled and vopped around; merged optics and audials set haphazardly in the walls.

Skywarp found it funny - Thundercracker would have got it.

And in hindsight it probably wasn’t Skywarp’s best idea to vop into Megatron’s office with a plan to show off his control and make a pun. Megatron had looked at him and narrowed his optics at his sudden appearance. Soundwave lurked behind Megatron and Starscream flinched where he stood with his arms crossed over his cockpit. 

“You are early.” Megatron observed with a slight widening of his optics. Skywarp was notorious for forgetting meeting times or never showing up at all.

But Megatron had made the opening and Skywarp simply couldn’t resist.

A grin stretched his faceplate and he stepped to the side to reveal a helm sticking half out of the wall. The optic sockets were black empty pits. He’d vopped them out to put them in the casseticons’ game room.

“Would you say I’m a _head_ of schedule?”

It wasn’t the pun he had planned but it was so perfect and Skywarp was feeling particularly smug about this vop. He might even be able to vop the helm out again more or less intact. Which meant he could do it to Sunstreaker. 

Repeatedly.

It was a difficult vop, he had pressed the helm up against the door of his quarters, wedged behind his wing, before he vopped to the office of the leader of the Decepticons.

The key was to calculate how much of the object he vopped with him could stick into the wall, and distinguish it from the separate wall he had leaned it against. The difficult part was while he vopped, it was considered part of his own frame. He had run the risk of miscalculating and ending up with his wings trapped in the wall.

Megatron seemed less than impressed with Skywarp’s talent and snarled in response. He stood violently, causing his chair to clatter behind him. 

Jabbing a digit at Starscream, whose wings were hitched high and stiff and who had pointedly not looked at Skywarp’s direction, Megatron commanded, “Fix this!” And strode from his office on to the bridge.

“Should I have gone with _getting a head in the war_?” Skywarp asked Soundwave who regarded him silently.

“Nothing?” Skywarp whined and his wings drooped.

Silence was the only response as Soundwave left the room.

Tossing his arms up into the air, Skywarp huffed after the retreating back of Soundwave, “Oh come on! I already used up all my best leg material with Ambulon!”

Starscream rounded on him with a snarl, “What is wrong with you?”

“What? Nothing’s wrong with me. I’m “perfect Third material” Skywarp added air quotes over the last bit and Starscream recoiled. 

There was no seeker better suited for the position of Third than Skywarp. Watching his Trine’s vapor trails, he could watch for threats in all directions simultaneously to protect his trine from behind.

Uncomfortable silence echoed between them for a few breems before Starscream broke it. “I smelted Thundercracker’s frame.” 

“You what?!” 

“I couldn’t risk you getting it in your head to stick his frame into a wall!”

“I would never do that! That’s horrible!”

“And what do you call suspending legs from the ceiling of Ambulon’s quarters?”

“Funny!” Thundercracker would have got it.

“You are unbelievable.”

“I’m unpredictable.” Skywarp corrected.

Starscream tossed his arms in the air with a frustrated snarl then rounded on Skywarp and jabbed his cockpit hard with a digit, “Go out! Fly! Teleport around the planet until your spark gives out, I don’t care. Just stop teleporting around the ship and being menacing. I get it. You’re _bored_. Soundwave’s little bits were terrified you were going to grab them off their couch and make them the literal eyes and ear of the Decepticons.”

Skywarp hadn’t really thought about his leaving deactivated mech parts around from that perspective. He thought what he was doing was obvious. 

He just wanted a reaction. A laugh. A promise.

Something that showed Skywarp all the Decepticons didn’t blame him because it _wasn’t_ his fault, and Skywarp was going to end this pain.

Thundercracker would have explained the angle Skywarp had missed to him. The one that made sense to other mechs with cortexes that didn’t work like his. For being able to see so many perspectives at once, sometimes Skywarp could miss the obvious.

Skywarp’s frame drooped.

“Just go find something else to occupy your processor, away from here! I don’t want to be called away from my lab again to deal with you. Thundercracker wanted the war to end and I intend to end it.” Starscream snapped then started marching toward the door.

“I’m going to fix this Star.” Skywarp promised softly but his servos were clenched as his sides.

Stopping at the open doorway, Starscream turned. “You better. Don’t come back until your head’s on straight.”

Starscream realized the opening before Skywarp could finish opening his mouth.

“Don’t.”

Skywarp’s mouth snapped shut.

Something softened minutely in Starscream’s optics as he looked at Skywarp but then his gaze wandered to the deactivated helm in the wall and it hardened. Stalking away from him in a fury, Skywarp was left alone in Megatron’s office.

Shifting uncomfortably he stood there, staring into the black pits of the helm jutting out of the wall.

The doors cycled open and Megatron stalked in followed by Soundwave.

Megatron seemed surprised to see Skywarp still in his office. Soundwave simply considered him. Of course the spy master knew he was still there.

Silence passed between them for a moment.

“Well? Do you have something to say?” Megatron demanded.

Skywarp simply shook his helm no, placed a servo on the deactivated helm jutting out of the wall and vopped back to his quarters.

He didn’t have anything to say.

Turning the helm around in his servos he considered it. It wasn’t perfect but it was the best he’d done yet. He had more or less managed to separate out the helm components from the wall. He flipped open a panel and found the cortex intact.

It was time to stop practicing.

Then they'd understand the gaping void in his spark that Skywarp couldn’t manage to fit into words.

It _wasn’t_ his fault and Skywarp would make the mech responsible for this gnawing sense of wrong in this new reality without Thundercracker suffer and feel a fraction of what Skywarp felt.

Then Starscream would look at his remaining trine member with anything but contempt or begrudging duty.

He’d show them.

Skywarp would show them all what he could do.

In a flashes of purple and screams of gold.


	6. Pareidolia

Skywarp hadn’t spent all his time reworking his vopping calculations to get use to choosing a location with an object that felt like part of his own frame into a wall. 

Perched precariously on the angled furniture in his room, he’d also been stretching his awareness to the areas around the Autobot base he had flown over or seen. In the few areas he was familiar with, he would extend his awareness to search for his target.

Searching and considering locations from multiple perspectives at once, all from the safety of his own room.  
A vop that went everywhere and ended no where made no sound.

The infuriating limit to his observations restricted him to observing frozen instances of the present. In those instances, when his spark and awareness were in his own reality beyond time and his frame was everywhere and nowhere, everyone else appeared to be stopped.

He had stalked instances of Sideswipe in vehicle mode with various Autobots a number of times, presumably on patrol, but never his twin. 

Either they were keeping the golden psychopathic beast locked up tight to _protect him_ from Skywarp, or he was still recovering. How Skywarp wished he could see the golden mech’s perpetual scowl as he lashed out at his own barely tolerable comrades. There was no love lost between Sunstreaker at the rest of the Autobots if their interactions in battle were anything to go by. Skywarp had cackled so hard, he was shot at by Sideswipe once, as Sunstreaker’s own unit had fled the area leaving the berserker behind. 

Allegedly only his twin could stand the mech, and that was probably because he had to.

As far as Skywarp knew, the Autobots didn’t know he couldn’t calculate a vop into a location he had never seen, and the thought of them posting guards on one of their most notorious fighters made him chuckle to himself alone in his room.

Though as hilarious as that possibility was, Skywarp figured it was more likely he kept missing the times Sunstreaker was in the areas Skywarp had seen before. 

He’d never been in the Autobot base, and the Decepticons were generally more focused on fulfilling their energy needs to return to Cybertron to see what had happened to it during their long stasis over launching a full frontal assault on the Autobot base. 

The few times Skywarp had vopped around the outskirts of their base for fun, he’d been shot at in short order. The Autobot Security Director had the optics of a turbohawk, and allegedly could see and detect threats before they appeared if Soundwave’s cassettes’ horror stories of almost being caught were to be believed. 

He could probably gain footage of the interior of the Autobot base for reference, but Soundwave would know the instant he accessed the files. Nosy mech would involve Starscream.

Starscream would be angry at the interruption and he would _flinch_.

Or worse. 

His trine leader might want to come with Skywarp to help.

That risk couldn’t be allowed. Skywarp couldn’t expose Starscream’s safety around the terror twins; he didn’t want to see a reality where he lost both Thundercracker _and_ Starscream.

He was a proper Third, and he’d take care of this on his own by taking care of the threats from behind.

Once Skywarp dedicated all his time to observing the limited areas around the Autobot base, it only took three cycles for him to spot them.

Two frozen lamborginis alt modes on a backroad.

One flashy red. One impeccably golden. 

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. 

Pain and Death.

Observing their relative speed between a series of quickly generated frozen instances, he chose a location further up the road. Then, stepped back out of his reality. Ticking off the astroseconds on his chonometer, he allowed the two cursed pit spawns to be in the location he wanted for his dramatic entrance. 

It was going to be _quite_ the show.

With a face splitting grin, he vopped out of the Nemesis into the air, assumed his pose while allowing himself to gain the free falling speed he wanted, and stopped time as he searched for the location and the yellow monster he was going to land on.

Only to find the location he predicted him to be at empty. 

Huh.

Stretching out his awareness to find where his calculations went wrong, still hovering mid air in the space between vop locations, he found them not far from where he had originally seen them speeding down the road. 

They were transformed back into root mode and heading off the road into the forest.

Sideswipe’s servo was on his brother’s shoulder, faceplate stretched in concern while Sunstreaker’s expression was frozen in his customary snarl as he was in the middle of batting his twin’s touch away.

Faint old welds could be seen crossing all over his frame. Sunstreaker must have really been a mess after - Skywarp’s spark clenched and ached as it spun in its place in between. 

Not the entrance he wanted, but Skywarp could work with this. 

Resuming time but remaining in his original location mid fall, he transformed into jet mode. Shooting up into the air, transforming back into his root mode, achieved zero velocity then -

_Vop_

Appeared far enough away in the forest the terror twins shouldn’t have heard him arrive over their argument.

As he crept closer through the trees, their raised voices resolved into discernible words.

“-go back. Have Ratchet check -“

“I’m _fine_. Just wanted to stop for a bit.”

Skywarp crouched down between cover, he just had to wait for the right moment, the right phrase spoken for him to appear for maximum effect.

Presentation.

Thundercracker would be proud. That was from one of his favourites movies. An alien forced into the role of a villain, had a romance with a human, becomes the hero in the end, and gets the girl - 

Yea, beneath his brother’s stoic behaviour, Thundercracker had been a sap for the misunderstood longshots of the universe. He had believed everyone had their own story, for good or bad that explained their actions. Find the right perspective, and their motivations became clear.

Such a sap.

“Fraggit Sunny, if your spark skipped a rotation again we should go back. I shouldn’t have let you talk me into sneaking you past Red’s cameras to go for a _drive_.”

“I can sneak by his cameras on my own!” 

Sunstreaker. The villain of Skywarp’s new reality, came into view, faceplate twisted in his customary snarl as he batted a branch out of his way. It cracked and hung limp under the force of his uncaring servo.

“Yea? Well good thing you _didn’t_ because now I’m here as the voice of reason in your spark and I’m telling you I’ve changed my mind and this was a bad idea, let’s get you back to the Medbay. You aren’t even suppose to be transforming yet.”

Sideswipe. Skywarp’s rival. One of the only mechs that could manage to get the jump on him, looked uncharacteristically concerned without his typical laughter or grins.

“Ratchet said skipped rotations are to be expected as my spark settles back into my frame. It was out for four cycles and you know Ratchet, he’s being overly cautious. He still looks at me as if he expects me to gutter.” The villain growled with distain.

“You’re right. I _know_ Ratchet, and if he’s still not hitting you with a wrench then we shouldn’t have gone.” Sideswipe whined and tried to tug his brother back toward the road. “C’mon Sunny, we’ll walk back.”

The yellow Pit-beast snarled and pulled his arm from his concern’s brother’s grasp.

“I’m fine here, I’m not going to fragging _gutter_. And I’ve had my spark transferred from worse.”

The evildoer stalked further away from his brother and pulled a polishing rag from his subspace. Scowling at a weld along his forearm, he started buffing it as if it had personally offended him.

Skywarp aborted a snicker as he broke out of his mental narration before it could alert them to his presence. Sunstreaker’s plating was already buffed, waxed and shiny, those welds must really frag him off. 

Well at least he wanted to look his best with his bits hanging out of rocks and walls as Skywarp brought him to justice.

Sideswipe stopped where he had been rebuffed, hugged his arms over his chestplate, looked down and muttered, “Just because you weren’t online to feel it this time doesn’t mean this wasn’t as bad.”

The villainous yellow Pit-beast froze and turned to regard his brother with narrowed optics. If it wasn’t for his evil ways and sins, Skywarp would think his frame held a hint of worry, or was that panic… “What do you mean?”

Skywarp’s clever red rival huffed, marched forward and grabbed the polishing cloth out of his twins hand then shoved it into his own subspace.

“I had to fragging merge with your guttering spark to keep you stable while Ratchet rebuilt your frame. I almost lost you from within my own spark. Twice.” Sideswipe stood and wrapped his arms around himself.

“Primus Sides, you didn't tell me that.” The would be villain reached for his twin but this time it was his twin that who pulled away.

It was strange, Skywarp thought, to see Sunstreaker without a snarl.

“I think it’s obvious why I didn’t. Your spark was fragging _merged_ with that slagging seeker’s for cycles, and you wouldn’t come to me.” Sideswipe turned from his brother and hunched in on himself, uncharacteristically unconfident for once. When he spoke again it was in a whisper so quiet, Skywarp had to turn up the sensitivity of his audials, “You were scared of me.”

“Sides…”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Sideswipe scowled and at the kicked the ground sending a chunk of dirt flying.

Huh.

Undeterred the Pit-beast reached out and turned his brother’s frame back towards him.

“Come here.”

Then Sunstreaker did something decidedly unvillainous, went off script, and it threw Skywarp’s narration spiraling in a tail spin as his spark raced and ached toward that void.

Sunstreaker reached to place his servos against the sides of his twin’s helm and pressed their forehelms together.

The terror twins, the stuff of Decepticon whispered legends and plating shaking horror, just stood there, holding their gesture of uncompromising trust and devotion - Skywarp had to check if he had frozen his reality they stayed still for so long. 

Legend had it, Sunstreaker had shown a Decepticon his own spark then slowly crushed it as the mech watched. He had ripped it straight out of the mech’s chest plate when they thought the yellow terror disarmed.

Simply because the mech had flicked rust onto Sunstreaker’s already dinged and dented plating.

That same golden yellow servo now held his brother’s faceplate _exactly_ like Thundercracker would to Skywarp when he needed comfort. 

Skywarp lost all focus on his plots, went completely still, entranced at the intimate gesture that seemed so jarringly out of place.

Eventually Sideswipe’s frame lost his tension and their ventilations synchronized.

“ _Listen_ to me Sides. I’m still here. You saved me, I’m not going to gutter. I just -“

Sunstreaker’s armor plating rattled in a light shudder and clamped tight to his frame. He dropped his arms, clenched his servos into fists and looked to the ground. “I needed to get out.” He forced through clenched denta.

“This wasn’t about a drive Sunny. What’s really bothering you?” Sideswipe reached forward and tilted his twin’s chin up to meet each other’s optics.

“I needed to _move_. I needed to feel my frame. It…” He rolled his shoulders with a scowled, “…doesn’t feel _right_.”

“Well Ratchet pretty much had to rebuild parts of you from scratch, so that’s not surprising. He was pretty tired, maybe he missed something?” Sideswipe soothed with a pat on his twin’s forearm.

“That’s not what I mean.” Sunstreaker crossed his arms over his chestplate and pointedly avoided his brother’s gaze.

“What do you mean then Sunny?” Sideswipe asked patiently then waited as his brother hesitated. 

Aborting his response multiple times, Sunstreaker finally responded.

“Are you _certain_ I’m not missing memories? I’m still…me?” Skywarp never imagined he could hear the notorious Autobot frontliner sound so small.

Sunstreaker’s face held an expression of pure uncertainty and apprehension. His plating still clamped tight. Skywarp had all his focus locked on this conversation and for some reason Sunstreaker’s question made his spark pound against its casing; the void echoed.

Sideswipe’s pressed his forehelm against his twin’s.

“Your cortex was completely intact, I _promise_. Cross my spark and everything. And yea, so your spark was out, big deal, Ratchet put it back into your frame. _Your_ frame Sunny. You came to me eventually, you were just scared and confused I’m sure. You are still my big bad Sunflower of Doom and Gloom.” 

They stayed silent, helms pressed together, until their ventilations synchronized again. 

Sunstreaker relaxed his plating away from his frame and pulled away. Cycling a ventilation in a sigh, he scowled at his forearm and scratched at fading weld line.

“My plating itches.” He grumbled.

“I know, just another decacycle or so and your self repair will integrate the welds, and once Ratchet clears you to transform, we’ll go for a full detailing at that place in California you like.” Sideswipe reached out and gently pulled his brother’s servo away from his plating and gave it a squeeze. 

“We can’t afford that place again this year Sides.”

“Sure we can, I worked out a deal, don’t worry about it. Is Blue still stopping by?”

Sunstreaker nodded.

“And what about the vids I got you? So you have something to listen to when I’m on duty.”

“They aren’t as funny alone, but they help. I just -“ He looked around the clearing, Skywarp reached into that aching void and he _swore_ Sunstreaker stared right at him but didn’t raise alarm.

“- I’d like to stay out a little longer.”

The moment between them was broken as Sunstreaker looked away at Sideswipe’s vented sigh from beside him. The red twin scrubbed his servo down his face. “Ratchet’s going to be so fragged when he finds out you aren’t in our room. Do you know how long it took me to convince him to let you out of the Medbay?”

Sunstreaker shrugged, “It’s not me that he’s going to hit with a wrench,” and carefully sat on the ground.

Sideswipe looked at his twin with mock betrayal, then clasped a servo over his spark while resting the back of his servo against his helm.

“What’s this? My own brother betrays me and tosses me to the Hatchet as sacrifice?” He collapsed over dramatically on to the ground, thrashing and seizing as if electrified. Buzzing noises were mimicked from his vocalizer then abruptly stopped as he lay still next to his own brother.

Sunstreaker didn’t so much as glance toward him as he pulled a datapad out of his subspace and started to do something with it. It didn’t look like he was writing, the way the stylus moved…

Twisting his reality Skywarp found an angle where he could see over Sunstreaker’s shoulder and the beginning of a sketch, then twisted back. 

What the frag? _Sunstreaker_ drew?!

Sideswipe lay unmoving on the ground for a few klicks and Sunstreaker continued to draw. All Skywarp could hear was the rustle of leaves, chirping of birds and hum of insects. All he could _feel_ was the frantic pulses of his spinning spark.

A few more klicks passed. Sideswipe’s pede twitched. 

More klicks.

Sideswipe tilted his head off the ground slightly to peek over at his brother.

“Seriously? You aren’t even going to check on me?” He whined.

“You’re fine.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Actually I do.” Sunstreaker smirked.

“Cheater.”

And that’s when Skywarp saw it. His fuel tanks twisted and his spark strained - ached - against its casing at the sight. Stopping his reality without conscious thought; a desperate effort to preserve it before it became lost to time. 

There, peeking out from behind a datapad, Sunstreaker had lifted his mouth up to one side in a half cocked grin.

The expression was so jarringly out of place on a faceplate that should be twisted in a snarl or sneer. The sight of it sent Skywarp’s often underused cortex whirling. He scrambled and clutched at the dark void where his trine bond to his brother gnawed. Within his reality, he meticulously examined that grin from all possible angles.

It wasn’t possible. 

Shifting and twisting perspectives he examined every inch of the frontliner’s frame from his place beyond time and space.

His perception locked on some faint weld lines on Sunstreaker’s chest plate.

For humans, the ability to see faces or familiar objects in abstract shapes where none actually existed was common. 

For Cybertronians it was downright bizarre. 

Pareidolia, Thundercracker said the humans called it, and it had taken vorns for him to develop the ability that came as naturally to Skywarp as it apparently did to many humans. His brother had envied Skywarp’s unique perceptions of reality even back on Cybertron when they didn’t have a word for it.

Skywarp’s outlier spark had influenced his processor in order to handle the multiple perspectives and calculations he needed to successfully and safely execute a vop. Finding patterns that others didn’t see was a keystone to that ability.

Seeing patterns and relating them to something familiar was a side effect. Skywarp was horrible at understanding Starscream’s complex calculations but for vopping he just…did. 

Most Cybertronian processors would look at the lines of these welds and say how long they were, the distance between them, their composition.

What Skywarp saw was the faint head shape of a dog.

Perspective shifted, his world tilted, and reality snapped back into place. Skywarp locked _all_ his undivided focus on Sunstreaker’s faceplate as he drew on a datapad. 

The mech even furrowed his brows as he concentrated.

As time past, peripherally, Skywarp became aware of Sideswipe; orbiting the laser focus Skywarp had locked onto Sunstreaker.

Spreading his limbs out in all directions, Sideswipe gave an overly dramatic sigh.

Sunstreaker continued to draw. 

Sideswipe shifted, rolled to his front, placed his chinplate in the palms of his servos, swung his legs back and forth in the air, and glanced up at Sunstreaker. 

Sunstreaker tilted his datapad slightly so Sideswipe couldn’t see, but kept drawing.

Perking up, a predatory smirk stretched Sideswipe’s faceplate as moved to sit near his brother. He stretched and yawned loudly, a mannerism Skywarp had only seen in his brother’s movies.

“No.” The short comment cut sharply through the clearing and for a moment Skywarp thought Sunstreaker had been answering his own frantic thoughts and half formed conclusions.

“Fine.” Sideswipe huffed, stood, then stretched. His body twisted and turned as he worked kinks out of cables and wires. Jumping in place a few times, Sideswipe began to mime fighting invisible opponents.

A couple of flips and twists and he had moved his way back amongst the trees, away from Sunstreaker’s sight.

Increasing the distance he fought some more invisible opponents complete with sound effects then mimed getting stabbed through the spark, mimicked his electric seizure noise and flopped to the ground. He held completely still for a few seconds then slowly he tilted his helm back toward his brother. 

With a stealth that betrayed a frame encumbered with heavy plating intended to take damage, he rose in absolute silence.

Like a predator, Sideswipe stalked across the distance he had added between him and his brother’s distracted frame. As he pushed branches aside, they didn’t snap, let alone rustle.

Skywarp felt his spark race and clench at the disjointed, disturbing sight. No mech with a warrior frame should be able to move so silently.

A few frame lengths behind his oblivious twin he coiled tight and leapt. Executing a flip mid air he twisted, snatching the datapad from his brother’s servos.

“Sides, no!” Sunstreaker’s face morphed into a panic, optics wide as the datapad was pulled from his grasp. Lunging forward he attempted to grab it back, but his red twin was faster.

“I just wanna peek.” Sideswipe lifted the datapad to his optics then he cocked his helm to the side as if confused.

“Sideswipe, drop it.” Sunstreaker growled and lunged to tackle the red frontliner and by Primus - Skywarp didn’t think his spark could spin even faster - that sounded _exactly_ like one of Buster’s commands.

Sideswipe twisted out of the way.

“Wait.“ He squinted at the datapad and then his optics lit up but before he could speak he was knocked to the ground with an “omf” as Sunstreaker tackled his frame.

Laughing uproariously, Sideswipe tried to keep the datapad in view, seemingly unconcerned by Sunstreaker’s revving and threatening engine. 

Distracted in his mirth, Sunstreaker was able to snatch the datapad from his meddling brother’s servo and as he stood up, he checked the screen. Then plating tight clamping tight, he held it protectively against his chestplate.

Sideswipe kept rolling around on the ground with peels of laughter and Skywarp desperately wished Sunstreaker would pull the datapad away from his chestplate so he could stop his reality and find the right angle to see what it contained. 

When Sunstreaker started to stalk away. Sideswipe abruptly stopped laughing, his engine sputtered and he scrambled after him. “Wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was suppose to be _serious_. I thought it was one of your silly cartoons.”

Sunstreaker hunched and pulled in on himself. 

Sideswipe darted in front of him and tilted down to stare at his brother’s lowered faceplate. When he tried to place a servo on Sunstreaker’s shoulder it was knocked away.

“Sunny, I didn’t know. You haven’t drawn anything serious since -“ Sunstreaker flinched and his brother made a distressed whine from his engine. “Primus, I’m such an idiot. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s fine. Whatever. I shouldn’t have tried, I obviously missed the mark.” Sunstreaker servos on the datapad clenched harder.

“Why don’t you explain it to me, hey? You know I don’t always get art stuff like you do.” Sideswipe offered supportively.

Taking a step back, Sunstreaker shook his helm, “No. It’s slag anyway,” he snarled, words dripping in distain. Tipping the datapad out a bit from his chestplate, he went to press something on the screen.

Sideswipe lunged forward. “Don’t delete it!” Panic flared from the red twin’s vocalizer and shot across the field.

And in that moment, Skywarp had his chance. To Skywarp’s perception, Sideswipe’s frame froze mid reach for the datapad. The datapad was held just far enough from Sunstreaker’s chestplate, digit frozen over the delete option, and Skywarp twisted his awareness to the right angle and saw what was on the datapad. 

Skywarp had never understood the expression: time stood still. Time stopped, or it went.

But suspended here, his awareness stared at the drawing from all perspectives and none at all.

And if the expression time stood still wasn’t applicable for Skywarp; the expression and reality shifted and shattered rang through his cortex.

Abruptly he twisted back, and time for him resumed as if the pause had never happened. His processor spun in so many directions at once as his spark raced, pulsed and strained against its casing.

Too late to stop his brother from pressing the delete icon, the drawing was lost to time. 

But for an _instant_ in a place where no time existed, Skywarp had seen what was on that datapad and he clenched his servos tight into fists.

It wasn’t funny. 

It wasn’t funny, at all.

Sideswipe made a noise from both his vocalizer and engine, as if his brother’s actions cause him physical pain, and Sunstreaker hurled the datapad over Sideswipe’s helm into the trees. Skywarp crouched shaking, wings quivering as he glared at Sideswipe. Outraged the red mech had laughed, outraged that the drawing had been deleted.

Stalking away back to the road with Sideswipe trailing behind, golden plating was kept clamped tight and any attempt at apologies shrugged off with a snarl for his brother to drop it.

Skywarp couldn’t drop it. Not this. 

Stopping his reality he searched frantically through the perceptions and angles of the trees, bushes and grass until he found it. 

Vopping so it was at his pedes he picked up the datapad. 

In the top right corner, it held an impact mark where it must have hit a rock. The fractured glass was concentrated at the impact point fanning out toward the edge.

To any other mech it would look like a section of shattered glass. 

To Skywarp, it looked like a fractured spark casing, frozen in time mid-pulse.

 _It wasn’t his fault._

Beyond time again, he twisted his awareness until he located the gold and red Autobot frontliners stalking up the road. Calculating the distance between golden yellow digits, Skywarp thought that with all his practice, he could _just_ pull this off. 

This vop was dangerous. He’d have to be quick. Precise. No margin for error, and gone before Sideswipe could react. 

Checking and then triple checking, he stepped back to reality where time existed, assumed the position he’d needed to appear in with the datapad clasped tight, and vopped.

In a flash of purple he appeared slightly to the left side, behind that golden frame.

He had vopped the thin edge of the datapad directly between those slightly spread golden yellow digits, and a fraction of an astrosecond after he arrived, used his own servo to close the other to grasp it tight. 

At the same time, he whispered into those large helm fins.

“ _I_ thought it was beautiful.”

Giving the frozen servo in his own a supportive squeeze of encouragement, he was gone in a flash of purple and the sound of a vop, standing back in his quarters. He had done it all before he could finish hearing Sideswipe’s shout and his weapon fully reach its charge. 

Standing completely still, staring down at the datapads containing Thundercracker’s stories, Skywarp’s processor worked in overdrive finding patterns, examining different angles and relating all evidence toward one singular conclusion. 

Skywarp hadn’t felt anything when his brother died, didn’t feel anything until he saw that weld on Thundercracker’s empty frame.

He’d lost it in the field, because in his spark it didn’t make sense; reality without Thundercracker didn’t make sense, didn’t feel possible.

But, Skywarp had become fixated on Sunstreaker in a way he had never focused before.

Was obsessed with _merging_ him into things.

Why Sunstreaker pressing his forehelm to Sideswipe felt so painfully familiar.

The matching welds that echoed of Buster.

Four cycles. The Autobots said Thundercracker’s spark was strong, that it had been removed from his frame, merged with Sunstreaker’s. Sunstreaker’s spark was weak and guttering, but _his_ cortex was intact, and the spark the Autobots worked with had _recoiled_ from Sideswipe’s in fear. 

Suntreaker stated his frame didn’t fit right, asked if he was missing memories.

The fractured spark.

The quirked grin behind a datapad.

It was so _obvious_ to Skywarp in hindsight.

The drawing clicked the pattern into place. 

A seeker-human hybrid with Thundercracker’s colours spark playing with an human. The human’s chest has been cracked open and hinted at the light of a spark with a stunning display of swirling colours just partially started on the unfinished drawing.

Thundercracker would have gotten the artistic commentary.

Pits. Thundercracker _made_ the artistic commentary.

Because that wasn’t Sunstreaker’s spark in that Autobot frontliner’s frame.

The fact the golden frame didn’t flinch when Skywarp vopped so closely behind him was the final proof.

_Trust that ran spark deep._

It made sense. 

This made sense. 

This felt possible.  

 _Was_ possible.

The Autobots didn’t have many battle framed mechs. They couldn’t afford to lose one of their best, let alone both of them.

Spark and processor racing, Skywarp grabbed the opticless helm that had bits of Megatron’s office wall jutting out of it in places. He vopped to the Medbay on the Nemesis, startling Hook who had some of his tools spread out on a tray in front of him.

Skywarp loomed over him.

“I need all the information you have about spark transfers into new frames.”

“What?” Hook looked like he was standing at the end of a charged blaster held against his helm.

Raising the opticless helm to press against the wall, Skywarp vopped the fraction of small distance to the side. To the observer it would seem as if he had just shifted under the parallax of a shuttered optic.

Hook’s faceplate was locked in horror at the opticless helm jutting out of the wall. The mouth open in a silent scream.

“Now!” Skywarp shouted.

Hook scrambled over to his files and downloaded information onto a datapad. The medic’s servos were shaking, but Skywarp barely acknowledged it in his awareness as his processor darted and dashed with more important concerns.

This was _right_.

After a tense silent moment between them, a datapad was slid towards Skywarp across the desk.

“Is there a medical way to break a spark bond?” Skywarp asked urgently, without looking at Hook, focus still locked internally. Out of the peripheral vision of his awareness he registered Hook shook his helm in the negative.

“How do you break spark bonds?” Skywarp locked his focus intently onto Hook.

The medic flinched back. Skywarp didn’t care.

“You’d have to deactivate the other mech.” Hook stated, a slight wavering static in his vocalizer.

Attention still locked on Hook externally, his focus went internal again sorting through the dangers, the probabilities.

Sideswipe was a split-spark. Who knew what kind of added complication that would cause if Skywarp killed him to break the bond he was using to leech his cursed existence from Skywarp’s brother’s own spark.

Skywarp made a frustrated noise as he grabbed the sides of his helm. Why couldn’t he see the solution? 

Thundercracker, his brother, his life -

_“Mine.”_

needed him to see the solution, needed him to save him. 

To protect him.

“There is a device that blocks spark bonds, it’s installed into a spark chamber.” Hook stated cautiously.

“Do you have one?”

Hook shook his helm no and Skywarp clenched his servos into fists, slamming them hard on the desk.

“Vortex does.” Hook held up his servos in front of him and took a step back.

“Does it block anything freaky between split-sparks?” Primus why couldn’t he just kill Sideswipe and take his brother back.

Hook gapped at him as if he hadn’t been expecting that line of questioning. 

Couldn’t anyone keep up with Skywarp?

_Thundercracker can._

“Well?” Skywarp placed his servos on the desk and loomed forward, wings flared high and wide.

Hook looked like he was working something out of his intake as he glanced from Skywarp’s servos leaning on his desk to his faceplate.

“I’d talk to Vortex about that. If you’re going after those pit spawn twins, he might have some fun toys to make them suffer.”

In a flash of purple Skywarp vopped back to the helm in the wall, placed his servo on it and vopped back to Hook. The helm was placed facing upward in the Medic’s desk. 

Empty optics. Silent screams. 

Hook stood completely still.

“Not a word to _anyone_. Understood?” Skywarp loomed over the desk as he scrapped a digit down the deactivated helm with a screech.

Hook nodded enthusiastically. “Of course. Medical confidentiality.”

Skywarp flashed him a smile he hoped conveyed his gratitude, grabbed the datapad from the desk, vopped back to his quarters and scanned it.

Primus, there was a lot to read, and a lot of medical mumbo jumbo he didn’t know. But for _this_ Skywarp could give all his focus.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. 

Pain and Death.

Skywarp had just witnessed Sideswipe’s ability to come careening unexpectedly to get what he wanted, as he snatched the datapad out of those golden servos to see the drawing. 

Sunstreaker, a mech always saw coming. Part of the spark racing terror of facing the Terror Twins in battle was when a mech saw Sunstreaker charging toward them, they _knew_ Sideswipe was going to get to them first. Except he never took the path that was expected and always came at his opponents from an unsuspecting angle.

That was part of the thrill Skywarp had always felt when he played with the Terror Twins. It had been fun to try and predict an unpredictable opponent.

A challenge for his underused cortex.

And it seemed that Sideswipe had even found a way to sidestep his own death.

When Sideswipe’s own brother’s spark had guttered, Sideswipe had refused to die - had found an unexpected path. But he didn’t expect Skywarp.

Skywarp was the master of observing angles, searching for perspectives and waiting for just the precise moment.

Natural for Skywarp to string together seemingly unrelated angles and events, and like the welds on Thundercracker’s plating, there was a pattern to this only Skywarp would see.

He’d have to do the medical research, see what his brother needed. There were so many angles he couldn’t predict, didn’t know, to keep him safe.

To make him feel comfortable in his new frame.

But there was one path he knew for certain.

Alone in his room, surrounded by the sharded and fragmented decacycles of his skill, Skywarp's optical sensors flashed, locked up in his cortex as he plotted. No longer did he grasp toward the numb and aching void in his spark.

Skywarp was getting his brother back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cracks knuckles* Still with me and my insanity? _Now_ we get to the plot and Sunstreaker's POV.


	7. Rust and Ash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wraps you in a blanket and offers you a plate of feels muffins. Now you finally get to know Sunstreaker's POV of Thundercracker's last moments.
> 
> Not going to lie, there's a part in this that made me bawl when I wrote it and tear up every damn time I edited it.

Sunstreaker had never been the best at explaining how he felt, even to himself. 

Colours, shapes, dimension, whirling and spinning, he was best at letting his paintings do the talking as thoughts in his cortex raced in an attempt to match the spinning and pulsing of his spark. Well, when he could still see those flashes of swirling colours and sharp edges that made up a mech’s EM field anyway. When he could still capture his own emotions, and those of others, on a canvas to be shared. 

Most mech’s didn’t get his style of art, the the few who did, paid handsomely for it. 

The precious few he had sold before it all burnt into ash anyway.

Moments between mechs, frozen yet in motion, blended reds with soft purples with hints of orange and sharp pinks. Secret crushes, hidden suffering: an invisible world only he could see, spread out before him in a combination he apparently knew since creation.

Sideswipe told him when he finally started to speak as a sparkling, he spoke in patterns of colours that only Sideswipe understood.

Not that Sunstreaker could remember his own sparklinghood, or his younglinghood for that matter. He was who Sideswipe told him he was, but like his warrior frame, his old designation didn’t fit right and his spark had never felt at home. 

Sunstreaker had onlined in the Pits of Kaon, a tortured youngling spark in an adult frame, top of the line; built for destruction. No expense spared, a guardian frame to protect a sickly weak half-spark. How Sideswipe had managed to trade for _that_ in the short time period he had to save him, his twin would never say, and Sunstreaker hated the feeling that would come over their bond when he asked. 

Optics onlined, vocalizer already screaming, feeling his frame consumed and crumbling to rust - top of the line combat protocols glitched in the disjointed discord between his cortex and his spark as he tore the Pit medics around him apart. 

He had had no memories except his programmed combat knowledge, but some memories ran spark deep. 

“What the frag did Skywarp whisper to make you feel like _that_?”

Sunstreaker stood off to the side of the road, frozen by the flash of purple after Skywarp had teleported behind him and gently squeezed his artpad into his servo. The whisper in his audial echoed in his cortex in time with his spark in swirls of yellow with promises of green. 

Squeezing his servo gently around it now, Sunstreaker reminded himself his artpad was still there.

It was the only one Sunstreaker had left.

“Sunny?” Sideswipe stood beside him, alternating between staring at him expectantly and scanning the area for Skywarp. The bond between them pulsing hard in shock, anger with yellow wrapped in pink -

“It was nothing.” Sunstreaker grumbled quietly, stroking a digit along the artpad, feeling the weight of the whisper.

// _That_ didn’t feel like nothing.// Sideswipe poked at him through their bond and Sunstreaker could feel a quiet coiled ember sparking from his twin.

Sunstreaker had been taken off guard when the familiar weight suddenly appeared in his servo combined with a flash of purple; his over active combat protocols hadn’t reacted to Skywarp sudden appearance.

Because what else could it have been but being taken off guard? Why else wouldn’t his overreactive combat protocols react to slagging _Skywarp_?

No struggling to keep them disengaged, they hadn’t so much as flicked a hint of coming online. Sunstreaker could count on one servo the number of mechs who could approach him - _touch_ him - and not set them off.

A quiet whisper in his audial echoed in his cortex as his spark twisted and strained. 

His emotions had been festering and raw after Sideswipe had laughed at his attempt to create something meaningful again for the first time since his little studio had been destroyed and they had enlisted in the Autobots.

_Create something for me will you. Put my name on it?_

A flash of purple sending his spark racing, whispering yellow with promises of green. 

_I thought it was beautiful._

//Just drop it.// He snarled at his brother, hoping he’d leave this one alone. 

Sideswipe tilted his helm to the side, focused his attention back at Sunstreaker. Bond between them pulsing with apprehension and concern.

“I reported Skywarp popped by. Command is _freaking out_ and demanding we head back to base. And apparently you have your commlink turned off?”

Sunstreaker shrugged minutely, and ensured the artpad was still hidden from Sideswipe’s view.

“What did you expect?” He huffed, “We snuck out, I wasn’t going to give Ratchet a chance to scream in my audial and call me back.”

Colours shot through their bond, a fragging mess of colours with jagged edges. Primus he could - they had - Sideswipe was going to be so _green clashed with red_!

“Wow, uh. They are _really_ freaking out that you are out here and Skywarp popped by, Ratchet just said it’s worth the risk to your spark for you to transform to make it back.”

Sideswipe transformed and Sunstreaker couldn’t bring himself to move. Staring forward through the muddled swirls of colours and jagged edges of his emotions, he attempted to decipher them as he held a heavy weight that might crush him.

Or set him free.

“Sunny c’mon let’s goooo, they are mobilizing to meet us half way.” Sideswipe revved his engine.

Cycling a ventilation in a sigh, Sunstreaker subspaced his last remaining artpad, transformed and followed his brother. Distantly he processed Sideswipe’s needling of him along their bond about Skywarp, but Sunstreaker was lost in his cortex as his spark pulsed and raced with swirling colours and sharp edges.

Half way to base they were met with the entirety of the Autobot force on earth and it was all kinds of ridiculous that he mostly ignored. He followed, half listening as Prowl berated him over comms and answered Ratchet’s questions with single words as he was ushered straight to the Medbay.

Again. 

Far too much of his time was spent in here lately, laying attached to spark rate monitors surrounded by fragging solid _orange_ as Ratchet looked at him like he expected Sunstreaker to gutter at any moment. 

Sunstreaker had onlined screaming after the crash at the sight of the solid block of orange on the Medbay ceiling and Sideswipe’s frantic assurances along their bond. Through his screams he barely heard his twin yelling at Ratchet for bringing Sunstreaker online before he had finished reconstructing his legs, while Ratchet snapped back Sideswipe wasn’t a medic and he needed Sunstreaker online to ensure his spark was stabilized.

It wasn’t.

Spark skipping rotations under the strain of the past, Sunstreaker thrashed and screamed as Sideswipe’s heavy weight straddled him to initiate an emergency medical spark merge to attempt to stabilize him. His legs were gone, the rest of him would be next, he could feel the rust creeping up his plating. Attacking Sideswipe, and knocking him off him so he wouldn’t be infected too, Ratchet injected him with a sedative. 

As his growls in his engine gave way to pathetic whines he’d never admit, Sideswipe merged with whispers to who he use to be in his spark, that he was safe, he saved him, he promised he would. Sideswipe’s whispers were sharp, frantic, and drenched in pink with stripes of black and grey. His guttering spark finally calmed as he recalled feeling the ghost of a whisper, assurances he was safe, wrapped in calming soft blue.

It had to be the sedatives muddling up his fragmented cortex; Sideswipe was never a soft blue.

The next time he onlined it was to an orange ceiling covered in Sideswipe’s ridiculous stick figure Autobots, and Sunstreaker focused on those over the blocks of orange surrounding him, trying to guess who was who and what they were doing over their bond to Sideswipe as Ratchet monitored his spark.

Sitting on that same fragging medberth again, surrounded by the reprimands of command and Ratchet’s fragging _soft_ concern, lost in his colours, Sunstreaker thought perhaps Autobot command had lost it. 

They were _terrified_. Of fragging _Skywarp_. He could see it swirling in jagged edges around them. 

“It was _only_ Skywarp. The fragging glitch barely has two circuits in his cortex to rub together.”

_I thought it was beautiful._

Sunstreaker’s spark clenched and twisted. 

That Sunstreaker often didn’t know how to read a room, didn’t come as a surprise to him. He had been lost in trying to decipher these swirls of colours and sharp edges making up his emotions and distinguishing his own from the mess of others surrounding him. 

And his comment about Skywarp, he had only half meant to voice aloud, had apparently been the wrong thing to say. That’s what command got for keeping Sunstreaker and Sideswipe in the dark.

Apparently the day they returned Thundercracker’s frame to the Decepticons, Skywarp had put on quite the display of ability that had command, as his twin had put it, “freaking out.”

“You were not cleared to leave the base, you were barely cleared to leave the Medbay. There was no reason you needed to be informed.” 

“What Prowl means to say,” Ratchet stated softly as he meticulously checked over his spark readings _again_ , “Is we want you to focus on recovering, not looking over your shoulder for Skywarp.”

“He skipped a rotation while we were out driving.” Sideswipe snitched.

A wrench collided with Sideswipe’s helm along with a sharp harsh reprimand for allowing Sunstreaker to leave in the first place. Ratchet’s sharp fury faded from his field and his faceplace as he looked at Sunstreaker again with that look that made him feel like the Autobot CMO expected Sunstreaker’s spark to gutter at any moment.

Then Sunstreaker fragged it up worse. 

He tried to apologize. 

“I’m fine. We stopped driving as soon as it happened then rested for a bit before we headed back. And I don’t think you have to worry about Skywarp, he didn’t _do_ anything, just popped up and said _boo_.” A lie, and he felt Sideswipe’s sharp jab through their bond but Sunstreaker batted it aside.

//Drop it.// He warned his twin hard over their bond. 

This feeling was too new, half developed in blues, with strips of red, running into purple. Yellow dripped with pink, and green was starting bud out from behind.

Distracted and lost, Sunstreaker let the reprimands flow over him as he stared at the swirls of colours and edges surrounding himself and the others.

“I am disappointed in you Sunstreaker, these restrictions have been placed on you for your own well being.” Disappointment from Optimus Prime had a way of making even the biggest mech feel small and brown.

“It’s no coincidence the first time you leave the base since the crash, he shows up. The anti-warp devices around the base _must_ block his ability.” Wheeljack at least seemed delighted and orange to have some kind of evidence that whatever he had scienced was working and yellow.

“That is precisely why you are expected to follow orders and remain in the base.” It might have helped if they told him he was stuck in here until Skywarp offlined, or apparently if Ratchet’s reactions were anything to go by, his spark guttered any day now.

“Prowl’s right, what if he hadn’t just said boo?” Never thought he would hear Ironhide agree with Prowl and Sunstreaker would see yellow between them.

“I did not spend all this time putting you back together just to have Skywarp tear you apart.” Zoned out and staring at a smudge on the wall that was starting to frag him off as he processed his colours, Sunstreaker internally scoffed. As if Skywarp could actually tear Sunstreaker apart before Sunstreaker ripped out his spark.

_I thought it was beautiful._

As if Sunstreaker even wanted to. 

Clenching his servos tight in to fists, red and green clashed, and he longed for black and white. 

Too long since he’d seen his colours this vibrantly; he was out of practice deciphering them.

“Mech’s unstable, he’s playing with ya. From what I’ve seen on the Nemesis, you don’t want to know what he’s been up to, even has his fellow Decepticons jumping at shadows.” Jazz was always meticulous with his intel and a quiet black with grey coiled in orange.

_I thought it was beautiful._

The thought that it had been just a joke to Skywarp too tore; festering, raw in yellows twisting with pinks and smothering a burst of green.

_You’re an artist?_

“What did he whisper to you Sunny?” Sideswipe acid tone and jab through their bond cut through the swirl of orange and white behind the green edge Thundercracker’s ghost left echoing through his cortex and weighing heavily in his spark.

Everyone suddenly silent, only their swirling colours turning to sharp edges remained, and Sunstreaker realized they were all staring at him, awaiting a response. 

And Sunstreaker didn’t know how _he_ felt about Thundercracker’s last moments before the crash himself, let alone to be able to explain it to his twin over their bond.

Certainly couldn’t manage to explain it to anyone else with _words._

Weld lines on his plating itched - Sunstreaker abruptly tore sensors out of ports, hopped off the berth, shoving Ratchet and Sideswipe aside, and tried to stalked out of the Medbay with a snarl.

“Nothing. It was nothing.”

And fragging-just-won’t-leave-well-enough alone Sideswipe darted around and jumped in his way, blocking his exit and stared him down.

“ _That_ didn’t feel like nothing to me.” Sideswipe bit, sharp and red.

“Did he threaten you, another Autobot?” Optimus asked softly as he moved closer.

“Your brother?” Ratchet interjected, his attention locked between Sunstreaker and his twin.

“Didn’t feel like a _threat_ either.” Sideswipe never moved his focus from Sunstreaker’s faceplate as he answered for his twin whether Sunstreaker wanted him to or not. Waiting to catch every twitch, every flinch, no matter how small, while Sunstreaker could feel his twin probe along their bond.

Sideswipe was like a turbohound with a bone once he caught a whiff of Sunstreaker keeping secrets from him.

“Drop it Sides.” Sunstreaker revved his engine and advanced, meeting his stare. Most Autobots would back down. Some Decepticons probably would too.

But never his stupid half of his spark twin, because he knew how Sunstreaker could get locked up in his processor when left alone with his thoughts. Though normally he’d hound Sunstreaker in private, like today in the forest.

Sideswipe had gone driving with Sunstreaker despite orders because he knew something was festering in his twin.

Haunting him in whites, greens, oranges, and blacks.

_I’m a writer._

And blues. So much fragging blue.

Sunstreaker hadn’t told him he was seeing emotions in swirling colours and sharp edges again. And he claimed he didn't remember anything leading up to the crash because it was fragging confusing the slag out of Sunstreaker.

To soften the blow, he had wanted to sort out his own feelings in their clearing, then to try to show it to Sideswipe hoping he'd understand. They didn’t make it that far before his spark had skipped a rotation causing their detour into the forest. Then Sideswipe had fragging laughed at his attempt and a fragging seeker thought it was beautiful and - frag it all, why had it been fragging seekers. Sideswipe will be crushed.

“What’d he whisper in your audial as he stood behind you?” Sideswipe probed and Sunstreaker battled his own cortex, memory files echoing without him bringing them forth. 

_I have been exploring the intersection of Cybertronian and human cultures as a commentary on how Cybertronians are resistance to change despite it being part of our foundational programming._

Blue had spoken in white and orange tones, shot with black. White always hurt the most to see with other colours now.

Sunstreaker clenched his fists and clamped his plating tight as images flashed with colours through his processor. Spark spinning and pulsing in sync, eager to bare this heavy weight, in-spite of its betrayal to his twin: 

His blade stuck, servo crushed, and forced to stay locked, trapped on top of Thundercracker as he lost control.

Sideswipe’s servo slipped from his grasp.

He’d only managed to tear his arm half off, he wasn’t going to make it. 

_Create something for me, will you?_

Green and red clashed with yellow. 

A servo resting on Sunstreaker’s own clenched left one brought him back. Sideswipe had moved behind him and to the left while Sunstreaker was locked up. His twin must be feeling a pit of a mess through their bond from Sunstreaker and fraggit all, he still didn’t know how he felt; it had been so long since he could see emotions in colours.

“He touched your servo. What did he do. What did he whisper?” Sideswipe whispered now too, both aloud and through their bond, and Sunstreaker was struggling to vent as he plating gave an single audible tremor.

Green. Sunstreaker thought with reverence. He whispered yellow and a flash of purple with promises of green.

“What did he whisper that you have rattling around in your cortex?”

“Sideswipe I think that’s enough.” Ratchet’s voice spoke from far away. Sunstreaker was lost in questions, staring forward unseeing of the world as it was for others at the promises of grey given in blue that swallowed jagged brown.

_Put my name on it._

Thundercracker didn’t roll - took the brunt of the crash himself. 

They were enemies. Why would he do that? 

Purple and yellow swirled into black.

Why did he give this back to him? The one thing he couldn’t have, the one thing Sideswipe had tried so hard for so long to give him.

Blue. There was so much blue swirling into a solid block of yellow.

Didn’t Thundercracker know Sunstreaker was only made to destroy?

Yellow smeared in pink and specks of brown.

_I thought it was beautiful._

Green. Skywarp whispered yellow and a flash of purple with promises of green. 

And that simultaneously terrified and thrilled Sunstreaker, and by Primus there were so many colours and shapes he _hoped_ he could, he wanted to - 

Sideswipe cycled a gasp and dropped Sunstreaker’s clenched servo as if it bit him and moved in front of him to stare deep into Sunstreaker’s optics.

“What could Skywarp have possibly said to make you feel -“

And Sunstreaker tore his last artpad from his subspace, clutching it tight to his chestplate. His vents were open wide and his fans were straining to cool his overheating frame as warning lights he hadn’t noticed on his HUD display flashed.

Sideswipe stared at his artpad in his arms like it was a pet spark eater.

“Where did you get that Sunny?” Sideswipe asked in deadly whisper. Where Sunstreaker’s anger was quick and sudden, Sideswipe’s started like a quiet coiled Pit viper, slowly uncurling waiting for the best time to strike.

The uncomfortable shift of plating at Sideswipe’s whisper reminded Sunstreaker they weren’t alone, and he had been standing here locked in images and questions and colours like an idiot. 

_Dangerous. It’s us or them._

“It’s mine.” Sunstreaker grumbled. 

“I know it is. I recognize the glyph on the back.” Sideswipe tapped at the logo Sunstreaker had designed for them back when he was stupid and thought he could ever do anything other than be the weapon this frame was designed for.

_A trained beast._

All of Sunstreaker’s artpads had been stamped and itemized by Sideswipe. Words of the past flashed with colours as the memories he actually had made flashed through his cortex as his spark spun with them.

_They were going legitimate!_

Red and yellow.

Sideswipe had made it so they had all the right papers. 

_They got to file taxes and everything._

Orange, yellow, and red.

Sunstreaker’s art supplies had been business expenses. 

_They owned a business!_

White. So much white he cringed from it now.

Sunstreaker had been so naive to try to be what Sideswipe seemed to think he could be, something more than a beast let off its leash.

Decepticon seekers brought him back to reality when they blew Sunstreaker’s budding studio and visions of swirling colours into ash. Destroyed the life Sideswipe had wheeled, dealed and clawed their way out of the Pits for them.

For his soft sparked twin trapped in the frame of a monster. 

_A life they had chosen._

Red and green clashed.

_It’s us or them._

This artpad was the last thing left to show Sunstreaker he had ever been something other than a monster surrounded in reflective golden yellow. Everything else belonged to an echo of who he had apparently been.

They had lost their dreams because Sunstreaker had refused to fight again when the Decepticon seekers came recruiting. He had refused to risk losing his colours to fight back, and he almost got his brother, the light of his life, killed. 

A flash of Sideswipe’s red and charred frame on an Autobot Medbay table, surrounded by wires. Primus there were so many wires.

Sunstreaker lost his colours when he enlisted in the Autobots, when he exchanged his services and his commands so they would save Sideswipe’s life. His colours had almost gotten Sideswipe killed, again. 

And Sunstreaker hadn’t been able to bring himself to hope it was safe to see them again. Hadn’t been able to draw more than silly little cartoons of the Autobot’s antics that he only ever showed his brother…until today.

Today he had blended blues and grey to cover the yellow, brown, and black then twisted it with green.

And Sideswipe had _laughed_ making Sunstreaker colours disappear with the echo of who he should be, and he returned to black and white. Hurt to be yanked back to heel, reminded of what he was now.

“You left that in the forest. I haven’t gone back for it yet.” Sideswipe voice was smoldering with dark fury but Sunstreaker was lost, grasping to explain this in a swirl of colours and sharp edges to his brother.

What Sunstreaker had been trying to do in the forest - Promises of grey given in blue swallowed jagged brown and sprouted green.

Why he felt like he needed to create something because a fragging Decepticon seeker asked him to. Yellow and pink. It always came down to yellow and pink.

Why it was important to know that some mech who knew Thundercracker had liked what Sunstreaker had drawn. 

Blue, because it was blue swirling in a block of yellow.

Why Sunstreaker’s spark had locked up brown from dejection because of a laugh that snapped his reality to black and white - he didn’t want his last colour he saw to be slagging brown.

Then his spark had pulsed in blue relief because of a whisper. 

This was so much more than a whisper and an artpad.

Green. This was yellow and flashes of purple with promises of green. 

This was Sideswipe’s dream, his promise. He’d given everything for just a hint of it, just a hint of who he said Sunstreaker should be. Sideswipe had tried so hard for _this_.

The expensive paints, the canvases, the support, the fury when he onlined after the seeker’s blew their dreams to ash only to learn Sunstreaker had enlisted himself with the Autobots. He never stopped. Sideswipe never once gave up hope.

So why was Sunstreaker finally seeing his swirl of colours an sharp edges again because of fragging Decepticons that should be black and white?

He didn’t know when he had started to rev and growl like a beast about to strike but it was deafening to him against the kaleidoscope of colours he could see. The beast didn’t belong with them. He couldn’t have both.

But he had tried.

Tried to create something to quiet the debt he felt weighing heavily in his spark. Every weld a reminder. Plating twitched and itched, reminding him he didn’t belong in his own frame. Never fit this one after his real one crumbled to rust while he was still conscious to feel it eat -

He cut that thought off abruptly along with his revving growl. 

His plating was fine. Ratchet said nothing was wrong. 

But everything was wrong.

Now Sideswipe was coiling in a smoldering anger, and command thought Skywarp was out to deactivate Sunstreaker, and all Sunstreaker wanted to do was go to his quarters and not have the command staff see him break down into swirls of colours over an artpad and a whisper from a slagging Decepticon seeker.

Everything was wrong all because Sunstreaker had made an arrant, flagrant remark about fragging seekers ruining his day off, as he stabbed into Thundercracker’s plating. When he said all he wanted to do was go home and try to unlock his colours and paint again.

Or more accurately, he’d end up scowling at a blank canvas until he threw and kicked paint around, then stormed off.

There was no place for swirling colours and edges in war, they only caused pain!

_You’re an artist?_

Thundercracker’s questioned response to Sunstreaker’s remark about his plans held genuine interest. His field buzzed in sudden enthusiasm. 

And Sunstreaker had flinched at the sudden flash of orange and edge of brown as his spark spun to match his cortex, and missed his target.

_I’m a writer._

He was stuck. 

Primus. It was blue. Thundercracker was speaking blue with edges of orange. This couldn’t be happening now.

_I have been exploring the intersection of Cybertronian and human cultures as a commentary on how Cybertronians are resistance to change despite it being part of our foundational programming._

He had his slagging sword stuck in the seeker’s internals, and Thundercracker was having a one sided conversation about his interests and making Sunstreaker distracted by the flashes of blue stripped red and white, surrounded by yellow.

 _//Fragging get your aft over here I’m stuck.//_ His spark betrayed his panic over the bond to his twin despite his words.

Then Sunstreaker had lost Sideswipe’s grip in a flash of brown and pink.

And in that last instant, in that last moment when Sunstreaker was certain Thundercracker would turn to force Sunstreaker to take the brunt of the crash, Thundercracker made a request, one artist to another, voice resigned, grey, and Primus to the fragging pit, slagging blue with a flash of purple and green.

_Create something for me will you? Put my name on it._

And Thundercracker purposefully took the full brunt of the crash.

In the forest, finally away from prying optics, Sunstreaker had tried to create something he thought Thundercracker might like to have his name on based on what little information and colours Sunstreaker knew about him. Sideswipe had laughed at his first attempt to use his colours to create since his tiny studio had burst into flames. 

_I’m an artist._

“Where did you get that Sunstreaker? What did he whisper in your audial?”

_Skywarp had known Thundercracker so it was important he thought what Sunstreaker had created for the blue Decepticon seeker was beautiful while Sideswipe had laughed. And because of Thundercracker and fragging Skywarp he was seeing his colours again._

Fraggit all he couldn’t tell his twin _that_!

This was so much more than a whisper and an artpad.

Green. It was promises of green with yellow and flashes of purple vibrating with red, surrounded in blue and white. Fragging white.

And Sunstreaker had deleted it. Destroyed it. Like he fragging destroyed everything!

Suddenly enraged because he didn’t know how to feel about the weight Thundercracker had laid heavily in his spark, and the betrayal to everything Sideswipe had done for him, he slammed the artpad down on the nearest medberth with a snarl.

What had he been thinking?

Why had he been trying to create something because a fragging Decepticon seeker that haunted his recharge asked him to?

How the frag had Skywarp even seen what was on his artpad anyway?

What was with seekers and their fragging art?

Did they have an art gallery on the Nemesis?

Poetry readings?

What a joke.

He couldn’t tell Sideswipe _Decepticons seekers_ had given him his colours back.

“He said I dropped it.” Sunstreaker finally snarled, and stormed out of the Medbay leaving the last remnants of the life he had chosen behind, and his spark echoed at the loss struggling to keep his emotions from fading to black and white.

_Monster. Pit-Beast. Spawn of Unicron._

Everything he chose to create turned to ash.

As he left he heard his brother speak, words laced with concern, “I didn’t even see Skywarp hand him anything. I don’t know how Sunny got that back.”

“Can he teleport things straight into subspace?”

“That’s a disturbing possibility we had not considered.”

“We’ll have to scan it before we return it, he might have done something to it.”

Sunstreaker punched a wall in exasperation causing Perceptor up the hallway to back away slowly.

Now they were just being ridiculous. If he let them think Skywarp had teleported his artpad into his subspace they’d _never_ let him out of the base. Skywarp wasn’t a fragging threat, not to Sunstreaker.

Spark racing and twisting, he stomping back the few steps to the the doorway of the Medbay. Ratchet had his servo squeezing Sideswipe’s shoulder as Sideswipe hunched in on himself, Optimus looking pained between them. 

Wheeljack, Prowl, and Ironhide regarded his artpad as if it were a bomb that would destroy everything.

Jazz was already staring in his direction from his perch on a medberth next to it.

Everyone snapped their attention to him shortly as he came roaring back in.

Jabbing a digit in Wheeljack’s direction, the scientist’s helm fins flashed pink in alarm. “It appeared in my servo when Skywarp teleported in. I knew what it was, and _I_ subspaced it.” 

Pointing at Sideswipe next he continued before allowing any of the others to interrupt, “ _You_ were distracted by powering up your weapons then talking on the comms as command _freaked out_ over nothing.” 

Slamming his fist down on the nearest medberth he snarled at Prowl. “There. Mystery solved. Skywarp’s not some all powerful being.”

Glaring at Jazz pointedly, Sunstreaker crossed his arms over his chestplate, “And _apparently_ the creepiest thing he does, is watch me draw, return my slag when I see red with jagged brown and tell me yellow and flashes of purple with promises of green.”

Venting hard when he finished, he glared hard at all of them as he refused to allow himself to itch at his plating. He was fine. His spark had gone back into his frame that never fit, he wasn’t missing memories and fragging _Skywarp_ was just a little glitch.

Sunstreaker couldn’t always read a room but they shouldn’t be looking at him baffled and yellow. He at least expected Prowl to tell him to call him sir, but the SIC’s sensor panels dropped lower. 

Ratchet was looking at him again with a pit of black edged in brown like Sunstreaker was about to gutter. The medic moved to rush to him but Sideswipe shot out his arm and Ratchet found it immovable from the center of his chest.

“ _That’s_ what he actually whispered?” The pulse of green mingled deep in red with Sideswipe’s bitter whispered accusation.

“What? I already told you, he told me I dropped it.” Sunstreaker responded with acid. He needed Sideswipe to drop this.

“Pretty sure you just told us that Skywarp whispered “yellow and flashes of purple with promises of green,” you wanna share what kind of code that is mech?” Jazz’s words sent ice through his lines, more than his frosty tone, and his spark skipped a rotation but he kept that to himself. 

Sunstreaker had more important things to deal with than a skipped spark rotation. His focus snapped and locked to his twin who had clamped his plating tight and curled his servos tight in smoldering red and clashing green.

//Sides…// Sunstreaker reached out toward him and he felt Sideswipe’s Pit viper of clashing red and green coil tight in their bond.

//How long?// There was so much putrid green in that question.

//Sides, I tried to -// His pulse of blue and brown were swallowed into that viper along their bond.

“How long Sunstreaker?” Sideswipe’s voice was still deadly quiet. When he spoke everyone locked their attention on Sunstreaker. Using his full name without a snarled prompt, as if Sunstreaker didn’t already know his brother was fragged off; seething.

//Not out loud. Let’s just go to our quarters and I’ll-// 

“Was it _Skywarp_ , a fragging seeker?” He bit out with green surrounded by yellow and orbited by red.

//No!// He couldn’t explain this to Sideswipe. Not this.

“You’re lying.” Ironhide looked like he was considering cycling up his weapons and there was a hard edge to Jazz’s visor at Sideswipe’s words. Fragging Prowl’s sensor panels hiked higher. Optimus and Ratchet were focused on Sideswipe between them.

//Sides, just use our bond, you’re going to get me shot at, activate my combat protocols, and get me tossed in The Hole.//

“Yellow I get. I understand how a whisper from Skywarp could have you see _yellow_. Pink even.” Sideswipe stalked slowly closer, frame deadly silent. A flash of interest shot across Jazz’s faceplate before it was gone as if it had never happened.

//Sides, drop it. Please, not here…// Sunstreaker begged him over their bond.

“Yellow _with_ purple and green though, now that doesn’t make sense.” He stalked even closer in a wide circle.

“Sides, I’m serious. Let this go.” Sunstreaker slowly released his arms from his chestplate and started to crouch, servos curled hard into fists. 

“How long have you been seeing swirls of colours and sharp edges _Sunstreaker_?” He spit out the beast’s designation and it stung.

“I’m not.” He growled.

“You are.” His twin’s wide circle started to coil tighter, his complete focus on Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker clamped his plating tight and stood completely still.

//Frag off//

“What did he whisper, I wonder. What could a _Decepticon seeker_ possibly whisper as he returned your artpad into your servo. He was obviously watching us.”

//Stop it.// He couldn’t bear the thought that fragging Skywarp had seen the intimate moments between him and his twin, and for some reason, never attacked. He couldn’t afford to know things like that about his opponents.

“We both know you didn’t _drop it_. You threw it, in what was it, red and jagged brown? See, now that makes sense. But what did he whisper that made you see yellow _with_ flashes of purple?”

That red and green viper went deadly silent and Sideswipe had circled behind him so he stood close and slightly to his left.

//Sides. Trust me. You don’t want to go here.//

“What did the purple seeker whisper Sunny, that made you see promises of _green_?” Sideswipe struck deep with his whisper in Sunstreaker’s audial.

Sunstreaker growled and went for a killing blow as he spun to face Sideswipe with a sneer.

“It was hard to hear. But it wasn’t a fragging laugh.”

Sideswipe reared back as if struck and cut a sudden whine that started in his engine. It echoed in the uncomfortable silence broken only by the hum of medical equipment.

Both the twins could cut straight to each other’s spark when they got like this. Sideswipe would circle and jab from all angles until he wore him down and struck to discover what Sunstreaker was hiding. 

And Sunstreaker would strike back in a single sudden blow if Sideswipe landed a strike.

His twin had a way forcing Sunstreaker to face reality. 

And Sunstreaker’s reality was that he hated what he had become, a broken twisted, hideous ugly thing forged in the Pits.

He had a fragging _glitch_. 

Ratchet could swear there was nothing wrong, but Sunstreaker _knew_. He knew he had once felt his body crumble as it was chewed away from cosmic rust, locked away in experimental quarantine. Swore he could still feel it eating away at him, disintegrating his limbs until he was only a chestplate and and part of a helm.

Chewing through his cortex, he couldn’t scream or move for fear it would accelerate. He had already watched a screaming mech stand up, and their leg blow to rust. When their frame hit the floor, suddenly unbalanced from the loss of a leg, the mech exploded in a spray of brown and red dust.

That was his first memory in a preprogramed frame that held nothing but combat protocols and the little piece Sideswipe swore he had saved. His spark and bits of his cortex had been close to the only thing left by the time Sideswipe got to him with a cure that stopped the decay. 

And this frame never quite fit his spark right. 

Sunstreaker was a golden yellow beast, forged for destruction that longed for cheers of approval who liked to pretend he had the spark of an artist.

Reality was, Sunstreaker was nothing more than a conditioned and programmed Pit-beast barely controlled by a leash; designed for combat and tearing out sparks. 

His brother held his leash now, held the answers to his past when he couldn’t understand why he acted a certain way. He talked him down when his glitch acted up, got him out of the Pits before he was irredeemable. 

Whispered the designation of who he use to be along their bond.

Sideswipe had given everything to save that twisted little spark that remained of his twin when the beast that was Sunstreaker tried to consume it.

Decepticon seekers had managed to reach his twin’s spark in a way Sideswipe hadn’t been able to touch since the life they chose turned to ash. Sunstreaker had been seeing swirls of colours and sharp edges since Thundercracker had been genuinely excited to meet another artist. 

And Sunstreaker’s colours had gotten the Decepticon seeker killed. And he felt _guilty_ about it and was striving to redeem Thundercracker’s confusing sacrifice by honoring his last request.

Yet it was a fragging blue Decepticon seeker who gave him back his first flashes of colour with three little words, and another one who brought them back in a flash of purple after Sideswipe had laughed. Sunstreaker’s spark had pulsed in delight with a flash of the unknown and a promise of hope, because of a whisper from a seeker and Sideswipe had fragging _felt it_!

Why was Sunstreaker’s spark listening to fragging seekers? Sideswipe didn’t deserve this betrayal. This pain. 

He had a brother, and he had once felt his frame crumble into rust as he watched.

Those were the only two things Sunstreaker knew on his own about his past, the memories that ran spark deep. That rusted fragment in his cortex remained unreachable. Sunstreaker had been trying to be who his brother said he had been. 

And that had only ever brought them both pain. 

“Save yourself the effort of a scan Wheeljack, and just fragging burn the thing. I don’t ever want to see it again.” And Sunstreaker spun on his heel strut, then stomped out of the room resolving to never see his fragging colours and that last remnant of their hopes and dreams again.

As he stalked down the hallway to his quarters he slammed Gears into the wall because he got to close, and minibots made his plating crawl in a way Sideswipe refused to explain. 

Sunstreaker was done pretending his spark had ever been that of an artist. 

Entering his quarters then storming into his little art studio Sideswipe had made for him, Sunstreaker tore it apart. Shredding every canvas, squeezing out every expensive tube of paint shot with gems and crystals that shouldn’t even exist on this fragging organic planet. Deals and negotiations, that’s all Sideswipe would say when Sunstreaker asked where he got the money. 

Secrets. Sunstreaker’s past he couldn’t remember was full of secrets Sideswipe wouldn’t tell. Things like minibots that made his plating crawl for no reason, like why he and Sideswipe could dodge through all the blind spots in Red Alert’s cameras so easily. Tossing every can of black paint on every surface after he had shoved every custom brush, every custom easel, every single secret gift into boxes. 

He snarled and snapped at anyone in his way so they didn’t get close and set off his over active combat protocols as he pushed the boxes down the hall toward the incinerator. 

No more thoughts about Decepticons, and their private lives or what they write.

No more seekers and their fragging art commentary.

No more trying to create.

His future only lay in destruction to protect his brother like a guard Pit-beast on a leash.

As Sideswipe ran down the hall to stop him, begging him to stop along their bond, Sunstreaker locked him out of the disposal area of the science bay. It didn’t take long for Sideswipe to bypass the lock, it never did, but Sunstreaker had already turned all his hopes and dreams to ash. 

These gifts were never intended for _Sunstreaker_ anyway.

After all, Sunstreaker had been forged in the Pits of Kaon, a kindled cursed half a spark that onlined in a final frame as if his spark had been forged, screaming with memories of rust, and he knew he had a brother. 

Who he was before didn’t matter, and the Autobots had no clue he had ever been anything more than who he was now.

Sideswipe’s original twin died in that quarantine room.

That echo in Sunstreaker’s cortex had turned to rust. 

_Corrupted. Glitched. Erratic._

No more swirling colours and sharp edges about whispers and artpads.

The remnants of Spin Out and his colours only ever brought their lives pain. 

Only ever put Sideswipe’s life at risk.

_Dangerous. Pit-beast. Monster._

Sunstreaker’s reality was black and white.

_Sunstreaker Destroy. Sunstreaker Heel._

Spin Out’s life was rust and ash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story will not be as overwhelmingly full of Sunstreaker's colour code for emotions without applicable descriptions for them to make more sense from his POV. I made it purposefully overwhelming and his narrative disjointed in this chapter because Sunstreaker was overwhelmed with their sudden appearance, flashbacks, and the implications they brought with them.
> 
> Expect slower updates for this story. I wanted to get you to Sunstreaker's backstory after that long set up with Skywarp, but I fear I may have just left you with more questions because I'm incapable of doing simple things apparently. 
> 
> (Unless it's crack!fic)


	8. Haunted

Decepticon seekers and their private lives haunted Sunstreaker despite his every attempt to avoid them.

Especially in his recharge.

Sunstreaker’s optics onlined to the sight of his brother’s upside down grinning faceplate shoved in his own. Fuel pump racing, spark spinning and leaping, he felt his twin probing along their bond. 

“Mornin’ Sunshine! Feels like you had some good dreams.” Sideswipe’s cheery voice was always grating in the morning. At least this morning Sunstreaker didn’t wake up to a rendition of _You are my sunshine._ The humans had far too many songs involving the word “sun” and Sideswipe had added them all to his arsenal. 

His brother was such a morning mech, and a night mech. Honestly did his brother even recharge?

Reaching out, Sunstreaker pushed his open servo against that stupid grinning face. 

“Frag off.” 

That push was all it took to unbalance Sideswipe from the precarious way he had been hanging down from the top bunk of the two berths Sideswipe had welded together. There was an _eeep_ and some scrambling but Sunstreaker had already placed his other arm over his optics by the time Sideswipe went crashing to the ground. 

“And I don’t fragging dream.” Sunstreaker snapped for good measure as he tried to delete the last remnants of his recharge. Not that that ever fragging worked. Imaginary memories generated by his spark couldn’t be deleted; they had no physical memory files attached to them.

“Sure you do Sunny, you’ve always dreamed.” His twin’s now softer voice echoed through his cortex as Sunstreaker felt him sit down on the side of his berth. 

Cybertronians used their recharge period to sort and file memories or events they experienced. Sunstreaker had never been able to relate. His spark generated bizarre impossible things, creating a landscape his cortex translated, and showed to him in colours. Until they came to earth, neither twin had a word for what Sunstreaker’s cortex had always done during recharge. 

According to Sideswipe, that was just the way his recharge had always worked.

“Leave it alone Sides.” Sunstreaker growled and revved his engine, he was too fragging tired for this. He’d been avoiding recharge whenever possible these past three decacycles since he burnt all Sideswipe’s hopes and dreams to ash. 

Fragging _seekers_. 

Since the crash it had been just one, and Sunstreaker had been so confused of how to deal with Thundercracker’s last request - had spent so much time in recharge recovering - he feared he only encouraged his own traitorous spark.

Because now he had two seekers haunting in his recharge: whispering to him, encouraging him, comforting him.

Fragging flash of _purple_.

“You wanna show me what you dreamed Sunny? Felt fun.” Sideswipe squirmed in beside him and Sunstreaker shifted over to make room for him on his single berth without conscious thought. Arm still drapped over his optics he felt Sideswipe’s chin rest on his chestplate and a cautiously wiggling excitement with pulsing encouragement through their bond. Cautious, as if preparing to recoil as soon as Sunstreaker snapped at him.

Seeking. That’s what Sideswipe called it when Sunstreaker shared his imaginary landscapes and images with Sideswipe over their bond, the way Sideswipe could experience Sunstreaker’s strange realities in recharge.

_Half manifested ghosts of instances with soothing blue wrapped around him as he screamed internally, stopping the decay of rust and ash. Flashes of purple accompanying whispers with promises of green. Laying morbidly on a couch of compressed offline ground frames, blue speaking softly in green swirled with purple as light digits ghosted over audial fins. Feelings of weightlessness, wind whipping and drowning out the screams as they turned red with laughter to be surrounded by flashes of purple encasing green and -_

//Sunny, let me seek. You saw your colours and you felt so happy this morning. Please don’t hide, I promise I won’t laugh.//

Recoiling Sunstreaker banished his data ghosts, causing Sideswipe to whimper along their bond then come wiggling cautiously back, but Sunstreaker was already shoving past him off the berth plating clamped tight.

Sunstreaker knew for slagging sure he couldn’t fly; he certainly didn’t have fragging wings.

And why the frag was his cortex making up stupid words like “vop”? Sideswipe was the one who made up stupid words.

About to storm out of the room with Sideswipe scrambling after him, Sunstreaker froze mid step as his spark strained and twisted against its casing. The door to his studio he had torn off was fixed and open, and inside, it was as if he had never torn it to shreds. 

Expensive tubes of impossible paints that shouldn’t exist lined the walls in the precise order he always set them, stacks of canvases and sheets of metal lay waiting to be filled, buckets of paint sat organized in shelves. He was hallucinating again, his fragmented cortex showing him things that weren’t real when he was online. He had to be. 

Walking into the room as if he had no control over his frame Sunstreaker simply stood and looked around, baffled and confused.

He _knew_ he had turned it all to ash yet the walls were no longer black, they were all grey. The perfect neutral shade of grey he could use to recalibrate his optical sensors to ensure the colours he used were true. Reaching out he picked up a random tube of expensive paint, and read the label. 

Literal emerald green. 

Paint that shouldn’t exist on this organic planet - a Cybertronian sized tube, shot with crushed emeralds. There were _five_ of them in a row as if Sunstreaker was running his own paint shop, and he could _feel_ it in his servo but this couldn’t be real. 

A shuffle of plating and a cautious fragging hopeful green tendril reaching to him along their bond snapped Sunstreaker from is shock and he rounded on Sideswipe with a glare. 

“What the frag did you do?”

A tentative smile made its way onto Sideswipe’s face as he looked from the tube of green paint in Sunstreaker’s servo to meet his optics, “Sorry it took so long Sunny, but I thought maybe you’d like a place to storm around like an angry sunflower of doom again. I made sure you have lots of black and white, and some others if you…” Sideswipe trailed off as he wrapped his arms around himself, “I pushed too hard, I just - I’m sorry Sunny.”

For decacycles Sunstreaker had been coming into their quarters to find little gifts of paints and canvases on his berth that he’d rip to shreds. Little gifts of encouragement, apologies that always made Sideswipe wilt when he saw their remains on his workbench, with Sunstreaker pointedly ignoring his twin as he played their video games on single player. 

“Sorry. You’re fragging _sorry_.” Sunstreaker snapped as he started to clench his servo around the tube. He _knew_ how much money they had left in their accounts from the stipend they got from command to buy fragging useless bits of human junk. They couldn’t afford one of these fragging tubes if they were human size - Sunstreaker knew, he found the company that sold them once. “Where the frag did you get this?”

“You know me Sunny, I’m a charmer.” Sideswipe smiled and waved his servo like it didn’t matter Sunstreaker held eight years worth of their stipend in his servo, and that fragging shelves of them were behind him. “The humans practically fell over themselves when I told them I had a brother who painted. You know how many exclusive buyers I have lined up bidding for just a hint to get their hands on the first art piece by a Cybertronian? I even told them we were _rare_ split-sparks twins - added to the price.”

“Bullshit.” Sunstreaker growled out the human phrase he’d learned from watching movies with Sideswipe. “You’d never sell my first piece if I ever managed to create one again. No more secrets Sides. Tell me what you traded, because I promise you, I’m done pretending and I don’t fragging dream.”

Sideswipe flinched then muttered as he looked down to the floor, “I never said I’d actually sell it to any of them.”

“Still lying Sides.” Sunstreaker snarled as he stomped forward. “Just admit it, you are still in fragging contact with Swindle.”

Panicked optics snapped up to Sunstreaker’s own as he closed the distance between them.

“What?” Sunstreaker snapped before Sideswipe could purposefully try to misdirect him again, “You forget all those times you needed the slagging Beast of the Pits behind you for intimidation while you poked and directed me over the bond to perform as you made your fragging _negotiations_?”

A hard edge entered Sideswipe’s optics as he stared Sunstreaker down, “You don’t know a thing.”

Slamming his open servo against Sideswipe’s chestplate, eight years worth of their stipend exploded and smeared straight over his twin’s spark. 

“Whose fragging fault is that?” Sunstreaker cut deep, and he didn’t stop to apologize no matter how much spark cried out as Sideswipe’s engine gave a sharp piercing whine. “It better be all fragging gone when I get back, or I’m reporting this to Prowl.”

“Liar.” Sideswipe said quietly beside him, as Sunstreaker shoved past. “You won’t tell Prowl.”  
//Twin Stuff. Remember?//

“Try me.” Storming out toward the hall, Sunstreaker stopped and turned to delivered a final killing blow straight to Sideswipe’s spark. //I’m done Sides. Stop seeking.//

With one final look of distain at the literal emerald green paint splatted across his twin’s chestplate, Sunstreaker sneered, “And don’t you know emerald clashes with crimson, even I know that _without_ seeing colours,” and promptly marched to the washracks, glaring and snapping any Autobot in his path.

……………..

As Sunstreaker stood under the spray of the solvent he pointedly ignored Sideswipe’s coaxing and tentative apologies along their bond. Resting his forehelm against the wall of the washracks, as the warm mix of solvent and water rushed down his plating, Sunstreaker stared down at his servo splattered in shining emerald green.

_Create something for me will you. Put my name on it?_

He couldn’t. 

There was no room for colours in combat and war. Wondering about his opponent’s lives, and their swirling colours with sharp edges around secret smiles, only ever caused pain. Secret lives of seekers, their smiles and affection would morph to screams and snarls as he stabbed them through the spark. 

The promise of colours only caused Sideswipe to do whatever secret deals Sunstreaker knew twisted his twin’s spark. 

Colours only put his brother’s life at risk. 

_It’s us or them_

Unable to avoid it any longer, Sunstreaker held out his servo, and his spark clenched tight as he watched the colour swirl down the drain and scrubbed until only his golden yellow remained.

Drying off and looking up into the mirror to buff his finally immaculate plating now that his self repair had finished integrated the welds, his engine stalled. 

For a brief instant, he swore red judgmental optics peered back at him from his own faceplate. 

But Sunstreaker’s optics had always been blue, his Masters had liked how cold they could look - how white they could bleach - when he lost control and his programmed protocols took over. It was how he had been designed, the perfect gladiator frame, meant to rip and tear - and enjoy it. 

_His spark never fit._

Servos shaking, Sunstreaker grabbed the edge of the shelf containing detailing supplies, as he cycled ventilations hoping to calm his racing spark. He swore black servos were placed on his tense yellow ones as his spark pulsed a calming solid blue, but when he spun around, the washracks behind him were empty. 

What the frag was wrong with him? 

Sunstreaker’s fragmented cortex and disjointed spark showed him impossible imagery that wasn’t real when he was online sometimes.

But nothing ever like this.

What else could it be though, if not his glitch?

When he’d first onlined screaming in visions of rust, he had _felt it_ and _seen it_ on his frame.

It was always rust his imagination generated when he was online. 

One time Sideswipe had locked down the Rec Room during a paintball fight because some red and brown paint hit Sunstreaker. He froze, spark spinning in panic, and his frame felt like it was crumbling - Primus, he had _seen_ it crumbling.

Then he had apparently shot at the minibots with a live blaster.

Sideswipe had pushed everyone out, and locked down the room. Refusing to let anyone in, his twin shot paintballs over the cameras and stood at the door frantically fighting Jazz’s hack on the door code on the other side. Privately, Sideswipe begged for Ratchet to bring a solvent over the emergency medical channel.

Once the room had been cleared, Suntreaker’s reality stood frozen. Pulsing and screaming in panicked fear along their bond as he watched Sideswipe continue to move, _saw_ rust start climbing up his twin’s crimson plating too. His brother was about to burst in a spray of rust, and he wouldn’t stop moving no matter how much Sunstreaker begged.

//If you move it consumes you faster.// He had pleaded.

The next thing Sunstreaker had been aware of was laying with his brother wrapped around him on a medberth, as he shook off the last haze and fog of sedatives from his systems.

The two of them had snuck out of the Medbay, dodged through Red Alert’s cameras, and hid deep in the tunnels of volcano where it broke through sections of the Ark. By the time they returned, Ratchet had been waiting to confront them about what had happened in the Rec Room, stating he didn’t believe for a klick Sunstreaker had reacted that strongly because of simple vanity. 

But Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had locked their weaknesses down tight.

Weaknesses got mechs killed.

“It’s just Twin Stuff, you wouldn’t get it.” Sideswipe’s vague and only explanation to a raging Ratchet, a furious Prowl, and a disappointed Optimus.

“Like how you managed to keep me locked out of that door? That _twin stuff_ too?” Jazz had sidled up and asked.

“Naw, that was just luck. What can I say?” Sideswipe shrugged, “Even a broken chronometer is right twice a day. I was just pressing random buttons.”

“Anything to add, Sunstreaker?” Prowl probed.

“Like he said. Twin stuff.”

Split-spark twins weren’t unheard of, but they were rare. There was little enough research about the phenomena, most based in superstition, Ratchet could never quite call them on their excuse. 

Especially since Sideswipe _had_ called for medical assistance.

Considered a curse and an affront to Primus, split-spark twins occurred when one spark would split off another weaker charge shortly after emergence. The second spark considered a spawn of Unicron himself, made corporal in direct defiance to Primus’ blessings, thought to be leeching its existence from the dominant spark. 

Sideswipe had told him that was all slag. 

Originally named because he had unexpectedly and literally spun out of Sideswipe’s spark as he was about to be placed in his sparkling frame, Sideswipe assured Sunstreaker their creators were followers of Primus, but they hadn’t believed that slag.

They had told Sideswipe, Spin Out was a gift from Primus himself, and Sideswipe was his Lord Protector. 

Or so the story went. It could all be slag for as far as Sunstreaker could remember, he didn’t even know what their creators looked like, and he doubted he had ever been considered a gift. 

For as long as he could remember, Sunstreaker’s existence only brought Sideswipe pain. Sunstreaker could never be the twin Sideswipe wanted, but he was all he had left.

For the paint ball incident Sideswipe had spent two days in the brig for refusing to unlock the door for anyone but Ratchet, when he got out, he had punishment detail for a further week.

Sunstreaker spent five days in The Hole for shooting live fire at minibots who had ambushed them for a friendly game of paintball; Sideswipe had ambushed them the day before after all.

When locked alone in a silent, dark room, Sunstreaker’s glitch was very good at showing him things that weren’t actually there. Sunstreaker swore Optimus hated The Hole just as much as he did, but Sunstreaker had stated it was non-negotiable with Optimus when he enlisted and handed his coded commands to the Prime. The commands, Optimus alone knew, but he refused to use them. Choosing instead to have Sunstreaker sedated when his combat protocols of the preprogrammed cortex of who he was meant to be took control, Optimus didn’t know Sunstreaker had ever allegedly been more than he was now. 

Sunstreaker never told Optimus why The Hole was necessary, just that if he crossed the line that’s where he should be place to calm down. In the Hole his spark spoke louder than his cortex.

_If he moved the rust would consume him faster. It was so quiet. The rest of the mechs already piles of rust. They shouldn’t have moved or screamed._

His spark’s connection to Sideswipe kept Sunstreaker sane during those times. Sideswipe would pulse soothing thoughts and feelings and talk to him constantly though their bond.

And no matter how angry Sunstreaker got in all the vorns since he had first come online screaming of rust, he _never_ blocked their bond. Just the thought of not feeling its sometimes quiet presence made his plating itch.

So for three decacycles now Sunstreaker had been subjected to a brand of torture only Sideswipe could manage: his brother whined and flinched like a kicked turbopuppy through their bond every time Sunstreaker rebuffed him.

As Sunstreaker glared around the washracks they remained empty and he clenched his servoes into fists. He needed to get out, he needed to _move_. Being confined to base was driving Sunstreaker insane. He was starting to _see_ things other than rust. 

Storming out of the washracks and toward the combat training room, his twin continued to relentlessly mope and whimper at him along their bond. Sideswipe had a talent of seeing weaknesses in mechs and poking at them until he got a reaction. With others, he could be incredibly manipulative and the mech wouldn’t even realized they had been played. A brilliant negotiator and trader, Sideswipe had managed to deal their way out of the Pits themselves, gotten Sunstreaker out from his Masters’ control.

But when he needled Sunstreaker, he didn’t always get the reaction he wanted and he just kept poking at Sunstreaker’s weaknesses.

Three decacycles since Sunstreaker had last been outside the base. 

Three decacyles with Sideswipe’s constant tentative coaxing and whispered apologies through their bond.

Three decacycles of Sideswipe leaving silent gifts of paints, canvases and datapads converted to something that functioned good enough as an artpad.

Three decacyles of dreams in colour of his head resting on the lap of a blue seeker writing stories about humans and Cybertronians with flashes of purple whispering in his audial, and flying with echoing laugher as if they were all friends.

Three fragging decacycles command had kept him locked up tight in the Ark with his plating itching and twitching because of fragging _Skywarp_ who was no threat to him!

Oh he wasn’t actually locked up anywhere, he just wasn’t allowed to _leave_. 

Or transform.

Or fight, the only thing he was made for.

Entering the combat room, he found it empty. Resolved to quiet his glitch and his brother, he intended to show his traitorous spark what he couldn’t put into words in the only medium Sunstreaker was ever meant to express himself.

He painted with pink energon and bits of mech.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied. Sunstreaker's been pestering me so have an update (or two since I had to split this into two). Sunstreaker's jealous Skywarp got so much screen time.


	9. Hiding and Seeking

Locked in his zone of combat with his spark screaming, he tore into the training drones as if he was tearing through his muddled mess of emotions.

 _It’s for your own protection, Sunstreaker._ A kind pat on the shoulder, and a redirection back into the Ark from Optimus.

Stalking up behind a drone he jerked the helm between his servos. Its neck snapped with a crack and a spark of electricity.

 _No can do. Skywarp almost got you mech._ Jazz leaning against the doorway posture appearing deceptively relaxed but a hard edge to the light in his visor.

Straddling the chestplate of another drone he had pinned, he shoved curled digits into its mouth and he pulled.

 _We’re pretty sure these devices are keeping him from accessing the base, well once I got them to stop exploding that is._ A device plopped proudly in front of him by Wheeljack as if knowing the Ark was littered with modified variations of concussion bombs was suppose to comfort him.

Separating the top part of the drone’s helm from its lower jaw, wires sparked and cybermetal strained and warped until it fractured with a snap and a spray of pink.

As if he was afraid of slagging _Skywarp_. Just look what I can do.

 _I have ensured extra cameras and proximity alarms have been installed around the perimeter and within the Ark. The moment he arrives I’ll know. I still insist you allow me to place one in your quarters._ As if Sunstreaker needed more fragging cameras to monitor.

His digits wedged between transformation seams, and tore into wires.

As if Sunstreaker wanted mechs to see him tear apart Sideswipe’s of gifts of encouragement and support for a life that didn’t belong to him.

He peeled off armor paneling into twisted knots.

_Create something for me will you. Put my name on it?_

As if he wanted them to see him online from recharge and snarl as Sideswipe asked what he dreamed.

Grabbing another drone by the helm, he repeatedly smashed it on to the chestplate of another until it exploded in bits of cybermetal circuits and pink gore.

 _I have placed you on limited monitor duty. Report to Ratchet immediately if the strain on your spark becomes too much. Ratchet will notify me and I will find someone to cover the rest of your shift._ Prowl apparently thought monitor duty would strain his weak wittle half a spark. Sunstreaker would offline from boredom before his spark guttered from slagging _strain_.

A drone grabbed his shoulder plating, and he pivoted to punch it straight in the face. Knocking it to the ground with a sweeping leg, he tore at its chestplate until he found his prize. Clenching his servo around it, it fought back but Sunstreaker was beyond feeling physical pain.

He had to show them what he could do.

_Your spark still hasn’t stabilized, it needs more time. I know you haven’t merged with your brother since your fight. I told you, you need more frequent merges to stabilize your spark with his for the time being._

Ratchet still hadn’t hit him with a slagging wrench no matter how many times Sunstreaker sought him out to complain that his platting itched. Ratchet use to always hit him on the back of the helm, tell him to stop being ridiculous, it was just a scratch, and to get his aft out of his Medbay. 

Ratchet use to help chase away the itching and visions of rust.

Fist curled tight around the simulated spark chamber, he started to pull.

“Get your aft out of the training room, you know you ain’t cleared for combat.” Ironhide at least had no problem smacking his helm.

//Sunny stop!//

Elbow in the nasal ridge of another combat drone grasping on his arm, sending it flying with a startled yelp.

He’d show them the only spark that was going to be guttering between him and fragging Decepticon seekers.

_I thought it was beautiful._

Wires and sensors slowly detached, a familiar feeling and as he imagined pulling a purple seeker’s spark from his frame. Grinning, he roared in ecstasy as if he could heard the cheering crowds and his Master’s approval.

I’ll show them fragging cleared for combat.

//Sunny. Please. This isn’t you.//

Servo that had been gouging out the optic of his opponent shot out as he pulled out the spark chamber with the other.

 _Only need one optic to stare at your spark chamber as I hand it to you; some so called Beast of the Pits._

Gripping the intake of that second opponent that had just been let into the ring, he squeezed.  
One hand around a spark chamber, the other on an intake. 

Sunstreaker performed to roars of approval.

 _//“Please Sunny, I didn’t know, please try to show me again?”//_ Whispers and apologies though their bond; broken gifts that felt like ash.

He’d remind his brother what it meant for him to be _Sunstreaker_. 

//SUNSTREAKER HEEL!//

At the programmed command embedded in his processor and conditioned into his spark, he immediately dropped what he was doing and took a knee of submission.

Locked and trapped in a frame that wasn’t his -

_that never fit right, that wasn’t his to control_

\- he could only wait for the command to release.

And stare, helm bowed at the carnage in his field of view. The splatters of pink energon of the training drones on his plating. Dripping from the tip of his digits on his knee joint, seeping behind plating - it didn’t itch. 

Other servo pressed in a lose fist against his golden yellow chestplate over his cursed half-spark. His surroundings and himself, splattered in gore, cybermetal chunks, and sparking circuits.

“What the…” Bluestreak it seemed was speechless.

“Fraggit ya idiot, ya know we can’t replace those. Non-lethal combat…only…” Sunstreaker could hear Ironhide start off like a storm that quickly lost its wind.

He could only imagine the expressions they held at what they saw, Sunstreaker kneeling in fealty among the sparking torn remains, unable to look for himself.

//Sunny…// A litany of whispered frantic apologies shot from Sideswipe through their bond as an intake struggled to clear, then wet scrambling and the shifting of parts and Sideswipe was in front of him, grasping the sides of his helm and pressing their forehelms together.

As if Sunstreaker actually had a choice in the gesture right now.

Sunstreaker had always felt like Sideswipe held his leash. But his twin had never actually snapped it on his collar before to jerk him back into position. Sideswipe had always reached Sunstreaker through their bond with sharp jabs of coiled anger or quiet words bursting with love and promises. He had…never…

//You…you actually…//

“What the frag are they doing? Praying to Unicron?” Cliffjumper. What did it always have to be fragging Cliffjumper. If it wasn’t him it was fragging Brawn. 

//Sunny, I need to know that you are you. This isn’t you. This isn’t you. This isn’t you.// Sideswipe repeated that phrase over and over through their bond as if he said it enough, it would make it true.

//Release me Sideswipe.// If he could use his vocalizer to say it, it would have been a threat through clenched denta.

//Not until you tell me you’ll try again. Please, please, please - I need you to try again. You saw them Spinny, you saw your colours again, I need you to see them for me. We need to try again.//

//Spin Out is dead, and rusted into ash!// 

Sunstreaker struck hard and twisted deep and Sideswipe yelped along their bond like a kicked turbopuppy, then came back wiggling back apologizing and whispering. Always whispering a life of dreams Sunstreaker couldn’t remember. 

A life that could be all lies for all Sunstreaker knew.

//That’s not true. You _know_ that’s not true. I found you. I saved you. You’re in there. Not all of your cortex was lost, it’s in there somewhere. I traded with the medic to install it. The best one in the Pits, I found out exactly what he wanted and I gave it to him, as much as he wanted. Only the best for you. You don’t have to hurt anymore. Please we haven’t been this close in so long. You saw your _colours_.//

Kicked turbopuppies always come back crawling and wagging their tails in tiny uncertain apologies for doing nothing wrong but just doing the things that turbopuppies do.

Turbopuppies chewed at the things better left alone and sometimes they messed up and dug deep into soft places, making a mess. They also wormed their way into his spark with their goofy antics and unconditional love.

Sideswipe had gotten Spin Out a turbopuppy, so the story went, to keep him company when Sideswipe had a match. 

When Sunstreaker met Jade, she was a small, runt of a thing, half starved because they could barely managed to fuel themselves in the Pits, let alone a turbopuppy Sideswipe had filched from the kennels for his soft sparked twin.

Sunstreaker’s combat protocols had triggered when she had scuffed his plating, Sideswipe had grabbed her and cuddled her close. The look he gave Sunstreaker was as if he was the one his twin had almost kicked. 

_//Spinny what is wrong with you?!//_

_//She scratched me, and don’t call me that. My designation is Sunstreaker.//_

Spin Out would never have tried kicked a turbopuppy, he had adored Jade, so the story went.

Sunstreaker had adored her too, not that his combat protocols cared when the scratch she caused made him see himself crumbling to rust. Sideswipe took her away, and Sunstreaker never had the spark to ask what happened to her after that. 

//Say the command.// Sunstreaker growled.

//No, not until you-//

//Let me go Sideswipe.// This would only end in pain.

//Never, I-//

//Fine.// Tossing up the block to their bond, Sunstreaker knew full well how much the silence would make his plating itch, and that Sideswipe would understand the significance. 

They hadn’t blocked their bond since Sideswipe was wheeling and dealing to buy their way out of the Pits, to save Sunstreaker from himself. Sunstreaker hated when his brother blocked it. His spark would remember screaming and battering against blocked bond as his limbs turned to rust and his cortex ate away.

Sideswipe only put up the bond to hide whatever it was he did to get what he needed to protect his twin: expensive experimental cures, medics, or a way out of the Pits.

_We’re going legitimate bro, we have papers and everything!_

_Look at this Sunny, taxes. We get to pay taxes._

In Sunstreaker’s experience, it was sometimes necessary to hurt the one he loved in order to protect him. 

And even though Sideswipe belonged to Spin Out, Sunstreaker adored Sideswipe the instant he saw the bright red youngling, barely as high as his hip joint, staring wide opticed as Sunstreaker tore out another medic’s spark chamber.

::Sunny I-::

Tearing through his comm channels as well, Sunstreaker cut his off. 

Sideswipe keened at him. Begged him to open their bond, or his comms. 

“Please Sunstreaker, _please_. I’ll say it. Just don’t make me say it out loud.”

Sunstreaker heard Ratchet push his way into the room and rush his way over to them, other pede steps that probably belonged to First Aid and Wheeljack followed, though Sunstreaker knew they wouldn’t approach him until he was rendered offline. 

Ratchet was one of the few who could touch Sunstreaker without setting him off. 

Feeling Ratchet tap into his medical port, and scanning Sunstreaker’s spark, Sunstreaker knew Ratchet wouldn’t find anything wrong. There was no device physically controlling Sunstreaker anymore. 

Sideswipe had made sure that had been the first thing to go when they bought their freedom. 

But some conditioned commands ran spark deep and echoed too strong in his cortex.

And no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to move without a command. Convinced if he did, he would burst into rust.

Ratchet was shouting panicked, asking Sideswipe what was wrong. And Sideswipe just kept frantically pressing his forehelm against Sunstreaker’s own begging and screaming at Sunstreaker over and over again not to do this. That nothing was holding him. To move you idiot. 

“Don’t make me say it out loud. Not this. I can’t lose you to this again.”

Sunstreaker stayed locked in his frame, surrounded by the only medium he was ever meant to express himself, waiting patiently frozen and silent for his master’s command; servos dripping pink over black and hard edges of yellow splattered pink and twisting grey.

There were no swirling colours only he could see here. Everyone could see these colours and how he had painted them with the frames of the drones.

If Sideswipe wanted to be his master in truth he was going to have to say it for everyone else to hear. Sunstreaker wanted it to be clear. He wanted them all know what kind of beast Sideswipe held on a leash that guarded him viciously.

His brother had _laughed_. 

His brother had finally attached the leash to his collar. 

Sideswipe’s original twin was dead; his hopes and dreams were rust and ash. All that was left was this Pit-beast guarding a master he adored with all his spark. 

He’d always come wiggling back to apologize for his existence.

Sunstreaker was never good with apologies. Pit-beasts off leash didn’t wiggle, they snarled, bit, and left gifts of their hunting prowess. Closing the bond and shutting off the comms, making Sideswipe say the command for others to hear was both a promise and apology.

He wouldn’t let Sideswipe’s half a spark gutter and die with the memories of his original twin. 

He was sorry he wasn’t the brother Sideswipe wanted, but he’d keep coming back to him no matter how much it hurt.

This was what colours brought to their lives.

Colours made Sideswipe cast Sunstreaker aside and seek for the brother he missed.

_Show others how you tamed me, and how precious you are to me that I listen._

Colours gave Sideswipe hope, with promises of green.

_Claim me and never speak of colours. I’ve left you no other choice. Announce to everyone who and what I truly am. There is only black and white._

“Sunstreaker. Release.”

Sunstreaker stood as his brother raised with him. Sideswipe pulled away, clamped his plating tight and wrapped his arms around himself.

But Sunstreaker could only stare at him with awe. 

His brother had leaned forward and whispered that command into his audial. Only Ratchet might have heard. 

His commands had never been whispered, only shouted, the option of a whispered command had never occurred to Sunstreaker. Thinking he had forced his brother into answering a question in only black and white, Sideswipe had managed to hold onto promises of green without casting Sunstreaker aside. 

When his twin was involved, Sideswipe never played by the rules.

Closing the distance between himself and Sideswipe, he placed his energon drenched servos carefully on the sides of his brother’s faceplate and pressed his forehelm to his twin.

“Cheater.” Sunstreaker muttered fondly and lifted the block from his side of the bond between them. His brother always found another path, even when forced into a corner.

They stood there, with Sunstreaker drenched in cybermetal gore and dripping pink fluids amidst sparking cables and splattered processor circuits, reaching, spinning and basking in each other’s presence until they cycled their ventilation as one.

It wasn’t until Ratchet started sputtering beside them trying to form words in his frustrated anger that Sunstreaker remembered they weren’t alone.

His brother had a way of narrowing his reality so it was just the two of them.

Spark spinning suddenly in time with his cortex, he imagined the morbid painting they would make standing in a pile of ripped, torn and smashed cybermetal drones oozing and splashed with gore pressing their helms together in an intimate form of trust and devotion surpassing familial bonds. 

Sideswipe’s crimson red plating, still mostly clean, jarring in the contrast to Sunstreaker’s own golden yellow drenched in dripping pink but it was the swirl of colours and sharp edges around them that caused Sunstreaker to gasp.

Green. There was so much promise of green rising like a mist, and he transmitted what he saw to Sideswipe over their bond, reality washing away so Sideswipe could see what Sunstreaker saw with his spark. 

//Yes. Hold on to it.// 

“What the- what was that? What are you too glitching banes of my existence up to.” At the interruption from reality Sunstreaker started to lose focus on the colours again.

“This is highly inapprop-“

“Back off. Not this. This is Twin Stuff. _Never_ interrupt this.” Sideswipes voice had coiled sharp with black and pink stripes in warning.

That black and pink Pit viper striking out at external threats was set twisting around them waiting to lash out at anything that wasn’t them. A promise of protection.

Reality around them faded and they were in a black room, only Sideswipe remained standing in a pillar of light as he peered all around himself and into the dark, seeking. 

The space around him was lit up in yellows and vibrating reds wrapped in an orange tube -

// _His brother was so excited about something._ //

//Yes, that’s right// Sideswipe started, and peered around as if to detect the direction that comment had just come from, but it echoed coming from everywhere. //I’m so excited. You got this, tell me what you see.//

// _There is red. There was always red. My favourite shade of red; always pulsing in excitement, intensity and so much life it can hardly bare to stand still there was so much to try._ //

//Yes.// Sideswipe’s face lit up as he seeked. //That’s you. Tell me more about you.//

// _Crimson. It’s called crimson. My brother laughed when I chose it to paint it on his frame. He said I’d have to change the name of my favourite colour?_ //

//That’s right. You’re right. He did.// Sideswipe moved forward and when he did, the pillar of light moved with him. //What’s the right name, what did he say the right name was?//

// _He called it “Sideswipe red.”_ //

//Yes. Yes.// Changing direction Sideswipe searched, trying to track the echo. //That’s right. Keep going. Keep going. What else do you like?//

// _Sneaking. I like to sneak in places where no one sees me._ //

//Yes you do. You hide so well.// Sideswipe picked up his pace, trying to cast the light around the dark space faster. //What do you do when you sneak?//

He whined in pain.

//I’m sorry.// Sideswipe slowed down as he turned in a circle, //I know it hurts. But I need you to do this for me, tell me what you see when you hide.//

// _Colours. So many colours._ //

Something was touching his arm, making the colours fade and reality intrude.

“Back off Ratchet!” That Pit viper lashed out black and pink stripes and powered up a weapon with a vow of grey.

// _Sides. It hurts._ // He recoiled away from where he had been inching closer behind Sideswipe, and curled up into a ball. // _I don’t want to do this anymore. You’re scaring me._ // 

//Shhh. Shhh. I know it hurts. It’s okay though, I got you out. I’m not scary at all. I’m silly. Remember? Remember how silly I can be? You just have to peek out and see. You got this.//

/ _I can’t._ // It hurt too much.

//C’mon please? Just peek out so I can find you, you’ve hidden so well, just give me a hint and I’ll find you. I promise I’ll protect you.//

// _No. I don’t wanna hurt again._ // He curled up tighter and started to withdraw, he felt a spike of yellow frustration from his brother that was quickly smoothed over and swirled with a teasing orange and purple.

//I made you a gift.//

He stirred; shuffled at his brother’s teasing tone. He was curious, oh so curious what his brother might have made. He was curious about everything but it was best to stay in the dark where it didn’t hurt.

His brother stood in the light and dangled that swirl of orange and purple out of his reach. //C’mon, I can feel you in there little bro. C’mon out so I can give you your gift.//

// _Green. There is so much green._ // He uncurled and crept silently closer, hovering at the umbra of darkness.

His brother sent yellows and vibrating reds wrapped in an orange tube that was wiggling with excitement as he dangled the swirl of orange and purple. //Yes, Spinny. Yes. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon. I feel you peeking out, just show me where you are hiding. I promise I’ll keep you safe.//

// _The green is surrounded by so much white. It hurts, Sides. I don’t like it._ // It was bright. Far too bright after being in the dark for so long. It promised only pain, and he started shake.

//Shh. It’s okay, don’t be scared. Come out and play. I’m still here. I promised I wouldn’t leave. I’ll always come back for you. I’ll always protect you.//

He hesitated under the pain. // _Promise?_ //

His brother pulsed so much blue with a foundation of black shot with brown. A promise of loyalty and truth with a strong, stable foundation. 

//Promise. Cross my spark and hope to die. Stick a cupcake in my eye.// He dangled that swirl of orange and purple. 

// _You’re a goof._ // He giggled.

//That’s right. I’m still a big goof, not scary at all. I’m an even bigger goof now. I’ve gotten bigger Spinny, you should come see.//

// _What’s a cupcake?_ //

His brother chuckled yellow twisted in orange, and vibrating purple. His brother was plotting something fun.

//I’ll show you that too. We can fill the hall outside Prowl’s office with them.//

// _Who’s Prowl?_ //

//I’ll introduce you, he’s strict but he’s fun to mess with. He won’t hurt you. The ‘Bots will love you. C’mon. There’s so much to see here, you’ll love it. There are so many colours…I collect them for you.// That swirl of orange and purple was jiggled enticingly.

// _Really?_ // He really wanted to know what it was.

//That’s it. You don’t have to hid from me too. //

Spin Out peeked out from the dark corner he had wedged himself in, and Sideswipe rushed forward. 

//There you are! Just take my hand and I’ll never let go. Primus Spinny, you’re so beautiful.//

Spin Out shared yellow and flashes of purple with promises of green with his brother.

// _He thought it was beautiful too._ //

The Pit viper lashed out in a sudden clash of red and green and Spin Out screamed in pain then took off to another hiding place in the dark. Sunstreaker stood immovable in the light, blocking Sideswipes dash to catch him, with a growl. Sideswipe kept calling frantic over Sunstreaker’s shoulder plating in the direction Spin Out had gone.

//I’m sorry, Spinny. I’m sorry. Please come back. I promise I’m not scary. I’m a silly goof, and I’m still your favourite colour.//

Sunstreaker kept cutting him off and Sideswipe pushed him hard and lashed out.

//Move you idiot. I was so close.//

Sunstreaker just growled louder, mouth morphing into a snarl and coiled in preparation to strike- 

The landscape between their sparks was sucked away in a silent scream, spray of rust and a burst of hot ash with a flash of charred plating of crimson red.

And Sunstreaker snapped back into reality and batted Sideswipe away from where their helms had still been held together. Sideswipe wasn’t deterred and dodged in to grab his upper arm plating.

//Please Sunny. We have to try again. Let me seek again.//

Sunstreaker wrenched his arm out of his brother’s grip and turned, snarling through their bond.

//No.//

His brother darted artfully in front of him, sliding on bits of torn cybermetal and puddles of pink.

//We’ve never gotten that close before.//

Sunstreaker rubbed his forehelm, it ached. He sent a frustrated and resigned sigh along their bond.

//He’s dead Sides. That’s just an echo.//

The pain in his helm was increasing, making his tanks twist in nausea and for a moment his optical feed showed him two Sideswipes before they merged back together. 

Primus that’s just what he needed, two brothers that hounded him. His thought tasted bitter.

//No he’s not. He asked about cupcakes, and Prowl and he-//

“He’s dead Sides! Do you hear me? Dead. Exploded in rust and twisted in ash. Do not ask me again.” Sunstreaker attacked in a hard single blow as he roared through his vocalizer and through their bond. His field lashing out in bitter hurt.

Sideswipe whined then-

“Wait? Sunstreaker’s tearing drones apart and bathing in their internals in a fury of hurt because he offlined a widdle Decepticon?” Fragging Brawn. Always fragging Cliffjumper or Brawn. Nosey little buggers making his plating itch.

Sunstreaker never could stand the sight of minibots.

One was okay. Two was bearable, if he wasn’t already agitated from the itching, but a whole fragging nattering pack of them set Sunstreaker off in a way he could never explain to Prowl during his lectures on proper conduct and behaviour.

And Sideswipe would never tell him why he might feel that way. Before he had met the Autobot’s he’d couldn’t remember meeting one. All Sunstreaker knew was Sideswipe would recoil from the group of them as well. 

Except Sideswipe was better at lashing out with words instead of fists and pedes.

Rounding on them, the pressure and pain in his cortex increased and he snapped, “Can’t any ‘Bot on this fragging base mind their own -“ He froze as his spark raced. 

There they stood, the whole hoard of them clustered together, making his plating itch and twitch. 

The pain in his cortex increased until it broke with a sharp electric crackle, his visual feed spit static. When the static cleared he saw them: a whole vicious hoard of starved minibots coming to tear him and his twin apart.

His growl started low and he coiled.

//Sunny! Don’t.//

Sunstreaker launched with a roar and the sounds of shouted applause.

……………..…

 _Twin Stuff_ was not an acceptable explanation to give, and in the end, they put Sideswipe in the brig for pulling a blaster, on Ratchet of all mechs, when he told him to back off while Sideswipe had seeked.

Sunstreaker they put in The Hole

In The Hold Sunstreaker sat frozen trying not to move. He couldn’t see his plating to watch it crumble but he could _feel_ the rust slowly consuming him.

The only comfort in this place of darkness was focusing on his brother’s voice along their bond telling him he was going to fix this.

 _Focus._

//It’s not really there, you’re okay.// 

_Focus._

//I’m going to get you out.//

_Focus._

//We can try again.// 

_Focus._

//We were so close.//

_Focus._

//We’ve never been this close before.//

_Focus._

//I’m going to save you little bro, I promised. I crossed my spark and everything.//

His brother whispered him a name that wasn’t his; a name that never felt right in this frame that was too big and itched.

No matter how many times Sideswipe reminded him of all the things that had burst to rust, Sunstreaker would never be the brother Sideswipe wanted.

And Sunstreaker sat in total darkness, slowly feeling the frame he was trapped in crumbling to rust as he listened to his brother’s voice and promises of things that he could never be.

It hurt. It always hurt.

When he saw light again, it was so white in its sudden intensity he swore he could hear its blaring alarm. But he could only sit frozen unable to move or his frame might burst because Sideswipe hadn’t told him that he was getting out yet.

So this wasn’t real.

And he was being haunted by the secret colourful lives of seekers again.

“I saw the message you made for me. I needed more time to get you what you need but as soon as I saw you kneeling, forced and trapped in that golden yellow monster, I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. You were begging me to come, you knew I could see. Nothing can hide from me.”

This certainly couldn’t be real. This was a hallucination from his glitched cortex.

Because there was no fragging way the purple Decepticon seeker would hug him, and not have _that_ set off his combat protocols.

This had to be his glitch acting up.

“I promised I would come back to you, always.”

And there was no way fragging Skywarp would press his forehelm to Sunstreaker’s like he was chosen family. 

As Sunstreaker forcefully activated his combat protocols, he felt something sharp jab into the main energon line between neck plating.

“I’m sorry. This is for your own good.”

Everything faded to black as reality twisted, bent, and shifted in a flash of purple.

Tanks twisting, spark racing, Sunstreaker purged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The imagery for Sideswipe's "seeking" is strange and hopefully coherent. 
> 
> Skywarp you cheater, you looked at Soundwave's recordings to see into the base so you could creep on what your "brother" was up to.


	10. Spark Collar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graphic descriptions of cosmic rust ahead.

Sunstreaker’s processor booted at a crawl with an underlying sense of _wrongness_ in his frame. Every system attempting to activate struggled against him to go offline, as if slugging through a thick bog of mud, demanding that he give up and rest. 

But the sense that something instinctual was missing kept him trying to claw through the bogged heavy haze.

The first sense his processor more or less activated were his audials, and the steady beep of a spark rate monitor through an echo of static brought some sense of comfort. Few alerts in his systems begged for attention as he struggled to run diagnostics to see the extent of the damage that landed him in Ratchet’s care. 

Either Ratchet still hadn’t reactivated his pain receptors, or he wasn’t that physically damaged. A dull ache resonated around his optics and against his back plating, speaking of reconnected circuitry and fresh welds but gave him little explanation to what had happened. 

Optics throbbing as they onlined, he squinted to make out the ceiling above him. He had been expecting the hideous orange of the Medbay or -

Huh. Cycling his optics narrower to focus, were those… _rocks_?

Shifting his optics, but unable to gain motor-function of his systems, he took in a large cavern. Wondering why he was in the part of the Ark where the rocks broke through the ship’s haul, and twisted into long tunnels, he refreshed his optics. Frame feeling far too heavy to move, he attempted bring his blurry visual feed into focus. 

Over the months on Earth, since the Autobots has come out of stasis, Sunstreaker had followed as his brother had mapped every inch of the Ark and the caverns that led throughout the volcano. Together they added secret exits of Sideswipe’s design, and secret caverns they closed off. Sunstreaker modeled fake doors to look like real rock imbedded with Sideswipe’s sensor dampeners so if scanned, all any mech would detect were rocks.

Sideswipe stored his high grade distillery in a cavern, his prank supplies in another, and a third they would retreat to together after one of them was severely damaged, or Sunstreaker was too shaken from visions of rust. There he and Sideswipe had set up their own private washracks hooked into the geothermal power of the volcano, a berth, and detailing supplies so Sunstreaker could meticulously repair and paint Sideswipe’s plating to ensure his twin wasn’t infected with rust without interruption.

Idly wondering if one of his twin’s more experimental hi-grade recipes had exploded again, Sunstreaker sent out a ping along their bond to see if his brother was okay, only to be met with a void swallowing his ping.

Spark racing in tempo with the beeping of the spark rate monitor, Sunstreaker forcefully tore through lagging systems to lift his frame to standing as he searched for his twin -

And promptly crashed to the floor.

The solid tone indicating a guttered spark haunted his audials as he struggled, lines and cables trembling, to push himself up off the floor only to collapse down in failure as he emitted a mournful keen. 

Sideswipe. He had to find Sideswipe.

Fans straining and clicking to cool his racing fuel pump as he fought internally to force his sluggish systems online, his visual feed blurred in and out on his servos as he frantically battered against the void in his spark where Sideswipe should be. 

Not a block. 

_A void._

At the edge of the awareness of his fight against his own systems he processed that he must be cross-wired because his visual feed registered his golden yellow plating on his arms as blue, and his servos were black.

Black pedes stepped into his field of view, and his world tilted, twisting with his tanks as he was lifted up and placed back on the berth he had fallen from. 

Struggling and clutching at the blurry purple and black form he shouted over the roar in his audials as he screamed into that void, “I can’t feel him! Why can’t I feel him? Where is he? Where’s my brother? You have to help me. I have to find him.” 

Vocalizer glitching static under the strain of his frantic plea and keens, Sunstreaker clutched and scrapped at the plating over his spark expecting to feel his plating begin to crumble to rust. 

“I can’t feel him! Why can’t I feel him? Where is he? Where’s my brother?”

Arms encircled around him from behind, preventing him from scraping his plating further and held him tight. A field pressed and pulsed against his, and he pushed back against the intrusion until his frantic processor began to recognize a pattern within the pulses. 

Safe.

Whispered words of safety against his audial, and for him to be calm. 

“I’m here. I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re safe. I found you.”

A sharp pain shot through his cortex as it crashed, glitching static on his HUD then fading to black as he struggled to ask why if his brother was here, he couldn’t feel him in his spark. 

His last half processed thought as the darkness overtook him was going to find a way to make Sideswipe regret repainting him fragging blue while he was offline.

~8~8~8~8~8~8~

Sunstreaker engaged his combat protocols before he fully registered the noise that triggered them.

Hovering inches from his faceplate was Skywarp's grinning face and Sunstreaker punched it dead center. 

Rolling off the berth, he crouched ready to spring. His weapons -

were offline.

Fine. 

He'd just have to tear the seeker apart the old fashioned way. He waited for Skywarp to make the next move. 

Skywarp…whined?

“OW! What the frag TC?" Standing with his nasal ridge held between two digits, the seeker tilted his helm back and shuffled his pedes. 

Not exactly a move Sunstreaker had been expecting. 

Sunstreaker revved his engine at him, attempting to prompt him.

"Is it broken? I think you broke it." Removing his servo from his nasal ridge, Skywarp was now showing his crumbled and dented portion of his faceplate to Sunstreaker. Whining and pouting as if Sunstreaker should care he had broken it. 

He reset his optics at the sight. 

It was exactly the kind of thing Sideswipe would -

Engine and vocalizer emitting an uncontrollable whine, Sunstreaker grasped at the plating over his spark and screamed into the void where the bond to his brother should be - where was it. Where was he?

"What's wrong TC? Is it your spark?" Skywarp knelt next to him as if time had skipped forward, and sounded concerned but…that couldn't be right. 

Skywarp wasn't important. Why he was here over Sunstreaker's recharging form wasn't important. Where here was wasn't important. 

What was important was that he couldn't feel Sideswipe! 

Probing, he stretched as far as he could into that void in his spark. Endless. There was simply no block to batter against. There was nothing to hold on to. There was nothing to fight. 

Impossible. 

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Tearing himself away from Skywarp, he leapt back a few steps away -

And promptly unbalanced on his landing. Something moved on his back and interfered with his movement. Turning his helm to look, he reset his optics again.

“…what the frag?” He couldn't see exactly _how_ they were attached, but over his shoulder plating he could see _wings_.

“TC, I need you to calm down okay? The stress isn't good for your spark."

Fragging. Tiny. _Blue_ wings. 

His spark pounded against its casing, struggling to escape as his engine attempted to roar only to sputter.

"You - you..." Words refused to form as he inspected the rest of his frame. Twisting around in an attempt to see as much of himself as possible, he probably looked ridiculous but he couldn’t bring himself to care about appearances.

Through it all he kept trying to reach Sideswipe through his spark bond that was impossibly _not there_. This had to be one of his processor fueled recharge hallucinations.

 _His glitch,_ his cortex echoed. 

"They won't work, they are cosmetic but I thought they might help you feel more at home in your new frame." Skywarp was spewing nonsense. 

His frame was _blue_. With red and white trim. And the paint had dried drips and it was uneven in its application. The wing kibble was secondary he could just tear that off and over ride the pain sensors as circuits and wires snapped.

But the uneven paint -

It _itched_.

“You…you…MUTILATED ME!” He roared as he stared at his plating in horror. He was going to have to strip down to his base plating to stop the itching of rust. 

"No! The _Autobots_ did. _I_ found you. I saved you. I can't get you back into your old frame but we can make this work." Skywarp was looking at Sunstreaker with a quiver of his lower lip, as his turbines whined while his optics held a hard edge of determination. 

Sunstreaker stared at him in disbelief then stalked away with a huff, the wing kibble on his back plating flexing and bouncing slightly with his movement. 

"My processor glitch - it has to be. I'm in the Medbay, Ratchet is fixing me from some stupid stunt and my finish is fine, my finish is _golden yellow_ and my brother is sitting next to me.” 

Cycling his ventilations to calm his racing spark, he stalked around the room with his servo rubbing his chest plate. Unable to resist, he picked at the uneven application of the paint under his digits to double check it wasn’t crumbling. 

The cavern he paced was large, high domed ceiling with lights strung up around the perimeter. 

There was a table with three chairs, and three cubes of energon. 

Tank grumbling at the sight, he marched over to grab a cube. Processor fueled hallucination meant it should be fine to drink. Skywarp appeared beside him in a flash of purple and snatched up one of his own while shooting a relieved grin in his direction. 

Sunstreaker stared at him, cube raised and hovering at his mouth. He didn't jump at the seeker's sudden appearance but his spark lurched, and his servo gripped the cube tighter. He refused to admit he had been startled by his own Primus-damned seeker hallucinations.

He watched as Skywarp pulled out a chair and gestured to it. "You should sit down. You shouldn't stress your spark."

Sunstreaker refreshed his optics trying to banish the seeker from his visual feed. Skywarp remained stubbornly there, shifting from pede to pede and twitching his wings. 

"What are you still doing here? Go away.” Sunstreaker grumbled irritably.

"Don't worry, I'm not skipping a shift or anything. I'm off duty.“ Skywarp’s wings drooped. “I don’t think they care if I’ll come back. No one cares where I go anymore. Star certainly doesn't ask. He won't even look at me."

Spark clenching to see Skywarp look so small and dejected, Sunstreaker wondered why in Primus' name he was hallucinating a dejected Seeker with a still broken nasal ridge dripping energon down his face.

Why was his processor generating a seeker that looked like he’d been kicked?

The void in his spark ached, raw, and he was mocked by swirling colours.

Sunstreaker snarled and threw the cube at the wall over the table and it shattered, dripping energon like the rocks themselves wept as he banished them. 

Skywarp flinched and jumped back, optics wide then hastily set his cube down and approached Sunstreaker with his servos out, entreating. 

"It's okay. It's fine. Star will come around. I haven't told him I found you yet. I wanted to make sure you were okay first."

Sunstreaker revved his engine in a threatening growl halting Skywarp from approaching him further. 

"TC?" Skywarp's voice was tiny. Hesitant. 

"Stop haunting me! I can’t have this!” Sunstreaker jabbed a digit on Skywarp’s cockpit as all the things that colours brought when he let them in flashed through his processor. 

Ratchet could bring him online anytime now.

Skywarp just gently grabbed his digit and crooned, “Sure you can. See? I’m right here. I know what your spark is saying.”

And Sunstreaker just froze. The dreams. They were always like this. Seekers whispering about their colourful lives, making Sunstreaker feel guilty for not honoring Thundercracker’s last request. 

Or worse. The ones where he did.

“See? Your spark knows. It knows me. You don’t quite fit in that frame do you?” Skywarp had moved closer and placed his servo against Sunstreaker’s chest plate, stroking it with reverence. 

“How could you possibly know -“ The void in his spark throbbed with nothing, and he shook his helm. “No. This isn’t real.” 

Batting Skywarp’s servo away, he turned to stalk away. If this was real Sunstreaker would have had to fight his combat protocols against the seeker touching him.

Skywarp appeared in front of him in a flash of purple and Sunstreaker hissed. 

“Would you _stop_ doing that!” 

Let’s go Ratchet, bring me online.

“Doing what? Vopping?” Skywarp shuttered an optic and flashed a sly grin.

“What the frag is a vop?” He asked despite himself.

The expression on Skywarp’s face fell and his wings drooped again. “You don’t remember?”

That question was loaded. There were a lot of things about Sunstreaker’s life he didn’t remember. He just turned and stalked away again. 

Fragging glitched cortex, just rubbing it in. 

Skywarp appeared in front of him again and Sunstreaker groaned.

“This a vop.” Skywarp offered. 

“Your teleporting?” Why was his cortex doing this? Why was he responding? He couldn’t fragging have this. He couldn’t know these things about his enemies.

“Exactly, see? You got it.” Tone encouraging, Skywarp continued, “I called it a vop because it’s like I vaporize, pop and hop all at once. Plus it’s kinda the sound I make.” 

Skywarp focused intently on Sunstreaker as if he were searching for something.

Sunstreaker placed his forehelm in his servos and scrubbed down his faceplate. “This is fragging ridiculous.”

“You think the term vop is ridiculous?” The little hurt in Skywarp’s tone twisted at Sunstreaker’s spark.

Primus. Just let this end. 

“No. It makes sense.” He’d been around Sideswipe long enough to know that’s something he would say. This was just his cortex channeling memories of Sideswipe into his glitch. 

It had to be. Otherwise that void…

“Really?” Skywarp seemed suddenly hopeful.

“What’s ridiculous, is that this conversation is even happening, _go away_. I don’t want you. This.” He gestured at the space between them, “Whatever this is. Just leave me alone.”

“But, TC…” Skywarp whined.

“Why the frag do you keep calling me that? What does it even mean?” This was fragging frustrating. How did one banish a data ghost -

_An echo._

"I always call you TC." Skywarp stated slowly as he narrowed his optics at Sunstreaker’s own snarling face. "You remember that right? You remember who I am?" Skywarp shot rapid fire and reached to grab Sunstreaker, who recoiled back expecting his combat systems to struggled to activate out of his control again.

They didn’t. He didn’t even have to fight them for the seeker and that fragged him off. 

"Of course I know who you are." Sunstreaker's enraged snarl in response oddly perked up the seeker. 

"I've fought you and your trine enough. Do you think we just attack without knowing anything about our opponents?" To be fair, he attacked all the time without knowing things about his opponents. But the seeker command trine, he knew their designations. 

And at least two of them had been haunting him.

_Create something for me._

Skywarp was sputtering at him as his wings twitched and flared. 

"But- but...I'm your _brother._ ”

Sunstreaker's spark grasped at that raw nothing as his vocalizer keened. 

Then he cut it off and lunged with a roar. 

With a startled _eep_ of surprise, Skywarp disappeared in a flash of purple light and Sunstreaker was left unbalanced as he collided with nothing, winglets on his back flexing under his movement. 

Skywarp appeared behind him; Sunstreaker changed directions and charged. The seeker’s servos were held out. As if that would stop him. 

There would be no mercy. 

Not for this emptiness in his spark.

And Sunstreaker gave into his programmed combat protocols completely as if he were the only defense in the ring against an opponent, protecting and sheltering that which was most precious. 

"TC. Wait. I'm sorry I can-"

 _Flash of purple._

Locate. Charge. 

"-explain. I thought you knew -"

 _Flash of purple._

Locate. Charge. 

"-I thought your spark memories -"

 _Flash of purple._

Locate. Charge. 

"- over rode the Autobot's processor. And you -"

_Flash of purple._

Search. 

Search. 

Find your opponent. 

Where is he hiding?

Arms appeared in a flash of purple and wrapped tight around Sunstreaker's frame. His engine revved hot as he struggled to break free. Arms pinned against a taller opponent, he leveraged his pedes against his opponent’s legs and pushed up to bash the back of his helm onto the already broken nasal ridge. Opponent stunned, he dropped slightly in the hold and he kicked off the ground to slam them both onto the floor.

A cry of pain and the crumpled twist of a wing echoed in his audials as his spark shrieked, but his opponent’s hold was like a vice.

"- Primus TC. Stop! You can't strain your spark like this after a frame transfer!”

_A flash of his arm falling to the ground and bursting into rust shot through his cortex._

Sunstreaker froze, snapped free of his combat protocols. His spark spun until it skipped a rotation.

_Focus. What do you feel?_

Hot vents on his back plating, he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t crumbling to rust under that vice grip.

“What-what did you say?” He hated that he stuttered out the words. It betrayed weakness. Weakness got mechs killed.

"A frame transfer. You were injured along with the Autobot frontliner, Sunstreaker. His spark guttered and the Autobots placed your spark, _my brother's spark_ , into the frontliner's frame.”

"That's ridiculous, you don’t think I’d know?” Sunstreaker's spark grasped on nothing. How could there be nothing if he was a twisted half a spark that longed for the approval of its other half, but couldn’t afford the consequence seeing colours.

“It _is_ true! I recognized you. I'd know you anywhere but the Autobots want you to believe you are their frontliner. They need the warriors.”

Unwanted, under Skywarp’s entreating words, Sunstreaker’s cortex spun anyway.

Sideswipe told him his spark had to be removed from his frame during reconstruction. 

Ratchet hadn't cleared him for duty because he was concerned Sunstreaker's spark still might gutter, but it should have settled by now. Ratchet wasn’t acting right.

Ratchet still wasn’t hitting him with a wrench. 

“They were training you. I saw it. You hate fighting in this war. You left me a message in the twisted ruins of those drones. A cry for help. You knew I’d be looking.”

They kept him locked on base.

_SUNSTREAKER HEEL_

Why were they so fragging afraid of Skywarp when they knew what Sunstreaker could do?

“Your frame doesn’t quite fit right. I know it doesn’t.” Skywarp whispered as if he could hear Sunstreaker’s own spinning and twisting thoughts.

“Feel it. C’mon TC, you know I’m right. You know you can’t hide from me. No one can. Where ever you hide, I’ll find you.”

_I like being sneaky and hiding._

What would it be like to have a spark transferred into a frame that actually had memories that didn’t belong to their spark, but belonged to another mech. What would that do? How would that spark know?

"They forced you to bond with an Autobot so he could leech on your spark. Don't worry, I broke it."

No. He couldn't. A twin bond couldn’t simply be broken, and not have one deactivate. He swore that was true.

_Where is Sideswipe?_

“No. You’re lying.” Sunstreaker’s voice went cold. 

Then he struck. 

Thrashing and clawing, Sunstreaker reached into plating of the arms that surrounded him and tore viciously at wires. 

Skywarp vopped away from underneath him, leaving bits of internal wiring in Sunstreaker’s servos. Sunstreaker flopped onto the floor with the seeker suddenly gone from beneath him. 

After a few moments, Skywarp was back in a flash of purple holding a datapad. 

Sunstreaker scrambled up to a crouch. 

"Give him back.” He growled.

"Thundercracker stop! _Please_. I see it. It makes sense. Let me try to show you what I see.”

Sunstreaker lunged forward engine revving, knocking the datapad away and intending on tearing out Skywarp's spark. 

“Give my brother back.” Furious was an understatement. He was beyond fury, lines running so cold they burned within his frame. 

“Please stop TC. Don’t make me use it.” Skywarp backed up slowly as if he held a weapon but there was nothing in his servo. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’m your _brother_.”

“Lies. I’ll tear you apart if you hurt him. WHERE IS HE?!”

Nothing could keep him from his brother, his twin. His other half.

 _His life_.

Abruptly reality melted away, and pain shot through him as he watched his frame crumble to rust over four cycles. 

He froze, recognizing the feeling and this scene instantly.

He wedged tight in a corner of the room with the other mechs. Venting as slow as possible he tried not to move. Didn’t make a sound. Focusing inward along his spark bond to his twin he let his determined reassurances calm him. 

//Don’t worry Spinny. I’ll fix this. I’ll get you out. I promise.//

 _Primus, he had just wanted to hide from the ring, and he just peeked in the room to see the mechs’ pretty colours. It was just a peek._

//Shhh. Shhh. I know. Don’t worry. I promise, I’ll fix this.//

He learned to move as little as possible after watching the comic rust rapidly spread on the two mechs who banged on the door, demanding to be treated. Watched as their arms dropped off their frames and knee joints buckled and crumbled. 

One of them literally exploded apart as he struck the ground, particles of that same rust drifting around his frame, inhaled into his own filters.

//Listen Spinny. Listen. I have to do something to save you but I’m going to have to block you for awhile.//

 _No. Don’t leave. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Not you too. I’m sorry I killed us. I should have fought. I shouldn’t have hid._

//I’ll be back. I promise. Cross my spark and everything.// And there was a tinge of revulsion as Sideswipe steeled himself for whatever he was about to do to save his brother.

His spark raced in terror as he banged and clawed against that block begging Sideswipe not to leave him. 

_Don’t block me out. Please. I’m sorry. Please come back. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry._

Too terrified to move, he sat silently in that corner. His right arm fell off, bursting into a cloud of rusted dust as it hit the floor.

With the bond blocked no one could hear his screams; he didn’t dare vocalize one aloud.

Alone now in this dark room, with the half disintegrated frames of those dead around him he still screamed against that block as his audials echoed in horrifying silence. 

Two of the others blank, empty optical sockets faced his direction. He couldn’t risk looking away, or turning his helm. He could feel it in there. Chewing through his helm. He could see it in the optics of the deactivated mechs as it chew through helms, he could see their cortex crumble to rust.

One helm collapsed in on itself and burst up a cloud of rusted red. 

He had killed them. He had killed all these mechs and their colourful lives because he wanted to hide from the ring and take a peek at their colours. The two he couldn't look away from had loved each other deeply, it was their swirling deep red twisted with purples and blues that drew him the most in this world of twisted sharp pinks and jagged black shot with grey. In this world of pain and death.

The cosmic rust ate his optical sensors and he could no longer see. But he could _feel_. He could feel it eating away at his cortex, and his screams along his spark bond went no where. 

He was alone, he was never meant to be alone.

He could feel it, working its way through his processor. Felt it chew through memories of Jade. Felt it eat his brother’s goofy smile; the faces of his creators. It consumed his own designation.

His brother would offline because he couldn’t choose between us or them.

A flash and Sunstreaker was reliving his little studio exploding into a ball of fire.

_I’m an artist._

His brother had tried to defend it. Told him to run and hide. Told him he didn’t have to fight.

 _Frag off. We’re neutral._

He was screaming, as the seekers dropped his brother into the inferno. 

He was scrambling. Tossing burning rubble aside. Heat shielded plating keeping him safe but his brother so vulnerable.

He found him. Sideswipe red, charred black with edges of grey.

And in an instant, in this cavern, he was trapped reliving his spark’s worst fears again and again in vivid colour and detail. He relived those four horrifying cycles of rust combined with explosions of ash.

It stopped as suddenly as it had come.

But Sunstreaker _knew_. 

He knew those events had happened and they were all his fault.

 _No. Sideswipe said it had been uninstalled. He had promised._

Tank clenching, he purged on the floor as his spark relived his fear, though this time, just an echo of a memory.

_Spark collar. He had a spark collar installed._

Dropping to his knees with a keen, and scrapped at his chest plate even though he knew from experience it was useless to try and remove it.

Collapsing on the floor, his trembling limbs, unable to hold him up spasmed with a life of their own. He couldn't stop the trembling. There was nothing wrong. Nothing physically wrong. It was all in his head. 

In his spark. 

Then why couldn’t he stop trembling? 

Skywarp was there suddenly holding him, _apologizing_ , stoking Sunstreaker's plating saying he didn’t know it would be that bad. He was so sorry but it was for Thundercracker’s own good. 

Lifting his trembling form, he carried Sunstreaker to the berth and Sunstreaker used what little strength he could muster to pull himself further away from the Seeker and wedge himself against the wall, the fragging wing kibble scrapped against the berth and he wedged it down the side.

Skywarp reached for him and Sunstreaker managed to muster a growling rev, and Skywarp pulled back his servo and had the nerve to looked at Sunstreaker as if _he_ were the one who had just relived his worse fears, not Sunstreaker. 

A pathetic keen emitted from the seeker. Then he stood awkwardly, shifting from pede to pede with his wings drooped low, as Sunstreaker continued his low rumble of warning with his engine. 

Sunstreaker's processor spun, his limbs still spasmed from phantom charge and he felt like he might purge again but he managed to keep his optics locked on Skywarp's every movement. 

Warily, the Seeker turned and went to stare at the area of the floor where Sunstreaker had purged. He glanced back at Sunstreaker who mustered a weak rev of his engine for the seeker to stay away and Skywarp cycled a ventilation in a sigh. 

He disappeared from Sunstreaker's view as he left the main cavern through a gap in a wall and came back with a wet rag. 

Sunstreaker watched as Skywarp got down on all fours and cleaned up the mess. 

_He used it. It’s still there._

That thought horrified Sunstreaker. Sideswipe wouldn’t have lied. He couldn’t have lied. Not about this.

When he dropped to his knee in the training room, when Sideswipe had commanded him to heel, it had to have been a trained reflex. 

It had to be.

_He never said it to you before. You don’t know for sure._

Yes he did. It was Sideswipe. He wouldn’t lie, he told him what he forgot.

_Then why doesn’t he tell you everything?_

That question pulsed as he screamed into that aching void in his spark.

When Sunstreaker first onlined screaming of rust with nothing but combat programming in his processor, he ripped the nearest medic apart in an attempt to stop the threat he couldn’t identify. 

His frame was top of the line. No expense had been spared for his experimental heat shielded armor plating and combat programming. A work of art, forged for battle. 

Sideswipe had spared no expense for this new frame to be built for his twin’s spark. 

_Only the best for you little bro. Even when I’m not there, I’ll still be able to protect you._

His twin had told him he had commissioned this guardian that would protect that precious half of his spark.

_You’re in there. I found the best medic. He installed the parts of your cortex that he could. The rest is there to protect you. Don’t worry little bro. We can make new memories, and I’ll tell you the ones you forget._

His intentions had been pure, distraught over his brother’s screams he had strove to protect him. 

Spin Out didn’t do well in the rings, Sideswipe explained. Sideswipe spent more time protecting him and getting injured than not. With his new combat programming he’d be better. 

They could be better. 

_It’s us or them._

The guardian frame surrounding his twin’s spark didn’t turn out precisely as his brother had imagined. 

The frame felt too big, it itched and he hadn’t even remembered his name, so he took a new one to try to make it fit. It hurt when Sideswipe tried to call him his old name, and Sunstreaker lashed out at things that hurt.

Sunstreaker tore into opponents to the roars of approval of the crowd. It fueled him, to know that he was doing something right, something that fit with his processor full of combat programs. But he didn’t stop at opponents.

Ripping plating and limbs from handlers if they touched him or invaded his personal space. Medics refused to work on him unless he was sedated. They learned quickly to double the dose of sedatives.

He’d rip out a mech’s spark with a smile if they so much as scratched him. 

The Pit Bosses should have put him down. But they were greedy and longed to train him; bring him to heel. 

They poked and they prodded to find his weaknesses. Physical pain meant nothing to him. He had no memories for them to exploit. But his spark, his tortured and shriveled split-spark, had a weakness built in few mechs understood.

They went after the youngling that seemed to be the only one able to get into his personal space, and he tore them apart with a viciousness that sent harder veterans of the pit running. They quickly learned not to attack directly.

Instead they installed a device to tap into his spark; tapped into fears that ran spark deep.

When they flipped the switch he would relive the moment when his frame crumbled to rust in an instant. He would be consumed with the fear that if he only obeyed then his brother wouldn’t offline and crumble to rust too.

He learned colours only brought pain. 

In the Pits they conditioned him by locking him in a reality of rust and guilt. If he listened, he could protect his brother.

He fought against his combat programming every time a ‘Bot other than Sideswipe, Ratchet, or Optimus got in his personal space. 

Vorns had past since a spark collar had forced him to relive his frame bursting to rust, the rest just flash backs and tricks of his processor with his glitch. 

But spark collars tapped into spark memories and now he had actually relived it. Any time that switch was hit he’d see his brother’s red frame charred and covered in ash. And rust.

This is what colours brought.

_If you don’t listen, your brother will die._

Being in this cavern with Skywarp wasn't a processor induced hallucination. This was real. And he couldn't feel Sideswipe.

Skywarp had done something to block his bond with his brother. Because there was _no way_ he could have broken their bond. It was there. It had to be. 

As Skywarp went to go clean the fuel and broken cube Sunstreaker had shattered on the wall Sunstreaker's focus went internal. He reached toward the hole in his spark, stretched and reached, searching and grasping for a block or a wall he could tear down. 

There was nothing but an empty void. 

And he had a visceral need to know. 

"Did you kill him?" He asked and hated that his weakness was betrayed with a burst of static in his words. 

Skywarp perked up to be spoken to, but winced when his bent wing tried to hitch upward. Dropping the rag on the table, he moved closer stretching his digits, and sparks shot from between plating where Sunstreaker had torn cables. 

Two of his digits spasmed and didn't move with the others. He frowned at them then held it against his cockpit.

“Did I kill who?”

"Sideswipe. My twin.”

Skywarp's optics went hard along with his expression and Sunstreaker matched it with one of his own as his spark balled tight, waiting for the answer. 

If Sideswipe was dead, Sunstreaker would have nothing to lose, it didn't matter that he could still feel the phantom creeping crawl of rust eating through his plating. 

"That Autobot is _not_ your brother. I'll let it go this time but never say his designation again. I did the research. It's not good for you to dwell on false memories that don’t match your spark, you’ll get a glitch.”

That twisted and taunted in his cortex, too close to home, and Sunstreaker couldn't let a threat like that alone; he gave Skywarp a nasty grin.

“Don’t.” Skywarp warned.

"Sidesw-"

Visions of rust and ash laced with pain. Phantom pains lanced through him. Then abruptly stopped. 

He shook, he heaved, but he had no fuel to purge. 

As he lay gasping and shaking with the sparking phantom tremors shooting through his limbs, he groaned. He couldn’t deactivate his pain receptors for this.

The pain wasn’t real.

It fragging _felt_ real.

Skywarp sat beside him and pet his plating, cooing and apologizing again. 

He found the will to pull away but Skywarp pulled him forward, helping him lay on his back and arranging his winglets as he forced his helm down on his lap and drifted a digit across a helm fin. A mocking parody of the position he dreamed of with Thundercracker telling him stories and keeping him calm on a morbid couch of dented and crushed ground frames.

"I warned you. You shouldn't have made me do that, but it’s for your own good.”

He stroked Sunstreaker's audials. Sunstreaker let him, he still needed to know his answer. If the answer was yes, then no spray of rust and ash would stop him.

He’d have nothing left to fear. 

"I don't want to hurt you Thundercracker. I'm doing this to help you. Eventually your spark memories will be louder than this frame's cortex. Until then, I'll keep you safe here."

Sunstreaker’s tank twisted in revulsion to keep up this charade. 

"Is he dead?" 

"Not yet." Skywarp's optical sensors flashed with dark promise. 

Relief shot through his spark and he grasped for that void again but there was nothing to feel.

He growled, weak through clenched dental, ”Don’t touch him."

Skywarp reached out and grabbed Sunstreaker's chin, hard. "You. Are. _Mine_. My brother."

"Frag you. Thundercracker is deactivated.” Skywarp pressed his hand against Sunstreaker's chest plate. 

"That's a lie they fed you. Your spark survived. You _know_ you don’t belong in that frame.”

The tremor that shuddered through his frame at those words had nothing to do with the phantom after effects of the spark collar. 

"Don't touch me." Sunstreaker pushed himself away and glared.

Skywarp stood up, gave him a considering look, then offered a pain grin.

"You should rest. I'll finish cleaning up. You'll feel more like yourself soon. I promise.”

Sunstreaker watched warily as Skywarp continue to clean the shattered cube. 

After a time, Skywarp picked up the two cubes of fuel from the table and brought them toward where Sunstreaker had wedged himself on the crack between the berth and the wall. 

Skywarp crouched down beside the berth, resting his chin on the berth and inched a cube toward Sunstreaker as if Sunstreaker were a wild and unpredictable turbofox. 

Sunstreaker's fuel tank grumbled and Skywarp shot him a hesitant smile. 

"You should fill your tanks TC. I'll leave this other cube beside the berth in case you can't get up. I'll have to keep leaving to get more. I haven’t figured out how to get an energon dispenser in here yet. I still have more I have to study so I can give you what you need. Only the best. I’ll only get you the best.”

That familiar promise rang hollow through his processor. 

Sunstreaker didn't offer a respond. Just stayed still and watched. He didn’t know what the boundaries were. What would cause the spark collar to get triggered again. Skywarp's grin faltered some and Sunstreaker braced himself for him to trigger the spark collar. 

But Skywarp simply cycled a ventilation then stood. 

He took a few steps back and fidgeted. 

Sunstreaker glared. 

"So I guess I'll just…go?”

Skywarp's wings drooped as he thumbed over his shoulder in the direction of the table. 

But he didn't move. 

"Unless you don't mind if I..."

He took a step forward toward the berth

"I mind." Sunstreaker rumbled. 

Yet despite Sunstreaker being the one held against his will, Skywarp was looking at him with that hurt kicked turbo puppy look again. 

Well frag him. Sunstreaker continued to glare. First chance he got he was tearing into the seeker, he just had to calm his racing thoughts about the spark collar and lies that echoed with painful plausibility, and focus.

Skywarp drooped further then went to retrieve his datapad. He looked at it and his optics flashed in determination as his frame went taller. 

“I’ll be back TC, I have to go get you some more things. I’ll always come back to you, you’ll see. I promised Thundercracker.”

In a flash of purple, Skywarp was gone. 

"I'm not Thundercracker. I'm _Sunstreaker_.” His growled protest echoed in the empty cavern.

He was alone.

And his plating itched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully my invention of a spark collar makes sense, however horrible my mind can be in creating plot devices.
> 
> Also Sunstreaker repainted at Thundercracker!!!!


	11. Step One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hello. I was asked a question on Tumblr and I realized I had four finished chapters of Brothers I never posted and that seemed oddly unlike me so have an update as I squint at the other three to figure out if there was a plot hole reason why I didn't post them.

Skywarp was insane. 

And Sunstreaker's spark wouldn't stop racing along with his Primus damned glitched thoughts. A spark collar was installed in his systems and he couldn’t stop his fuel tank from contorting as phantom fluid rose up his intake again. Newly installed, because Skywarp had to have installed it. Because Sideswipe said it had been uninstalled, and Sideswipe wouldn’t lie to him.

_But he doesn’t tell you everything._

Fine. He wouldn’t lie to him about _that_.

Sunstreaker snarled as he stomped around the empty cavern, pede steps echoing off the ceiling and resonating as if more than one mech was trapped alone here. His cortex was wrong. He was working himself up over nothing. The thought was ridiculous. Sideswipe was his twin. The other half of his spark. He’d sacrificed everything for Sunstreaker, he wouldn’t have left the spark collar installed when they left the Pits. 

_SUNSTREAKER HEEL._

No. 

That was a reflex. 

A conditioned command into his spark. 

Their emotions had been on edge since Skywarp made that comment; since Thundercracker made that stupid last request of Sunstreaker, and Sunstreaker’s self loathing must have bled over their bond to his twin causing an emotional feedback loop. Sunstreaker had scared Sideswipe when he got lost in the roars in his own memories becoming exactly what the crowd expected him to be, he had been crushing Sideswipe’s intake - 

Sideswipe had _had_ to bring him to heel. 

Tanks rumbled and low fuel warnings flashed on his HUD. Stomping over to the berth, he glared at the cube Skywarp had slid there. At least his fuel indicator still worked, even if half his other systems were slagged.

_He removed your T-Cog._

A tremor ran though Sunstreaker’s lines.

He couldn’t transform. He had attempted to reach for his polishing cloth out of reflex to sooth the itching on his plating. His subspace was completely unresponsive. 

Weapons systems. Transformation. All off line.

Was Skywarp even qualified to perform any of these modifications to his frame? 

As his fuel tank flipped, Sunstreaker ran another compulsive internal diagnostic. Most of his diagnostic systems spit back gibberish along with his chronometer. He had no idea how long he had been offline in this place before he onlined and punched Skywarp, breaking his nasal ridge.

A self satisfied smile worked its way on to his face at the memory of it crushing under impact. Flexing his servos until he clenched his right one into a fist, then slammed it into the palm of his left servo. Nasal ridge wasn’t all Sunstreaker would be breaking as soon as he got the chance. 

Sunstreaker just…a grin that would send his opponents running stretched across his face.

He just had to think like Sideswipe.

Rechecking his systems again, the smile fell from his face replaced with a scowl. His comms systems were still online, but they just spit the static of a blocked signal. Sunstreaker had searched the two caverns, servo dragging across every crack and crevasse he could reach to try and find a device that might be jamming them.

He couldn’t find it.

Sideswipe would find a solution if he was here, he assured himself, trapped in an endless loop as he screamed and reached into that empty, gnawing void of his spark.

 _Focus._ He cycled a shaky ventilation. He could almost hear Sideswipe giving him advice and support through the emptiness where their bond should be. 

_Stay fueled and stay functional. Gather information and available resources. Play the part. Escape_. 

_Easy._

Sideswipe would flash him a confident smile, with a pulse of support over their bond. Clever fragger would probably talk Skywarp into giving him his own warp capabilities as a parting gift for his trouble.

Shaking his helm his plating rumbled under the force of his revving engine.

Okay. Step one: focus and stay functional.

Reaching for the cube Skywarp had inched toward him, he brought it up to his mouth then hesitated. Giving it a hesitant sniff it, he wrinkled his nasal ridge. Holding it up toward his optic his spark almost leapt out of his chestplate as he whipped around to confront the -

Fuel pump racing, he forced down his manual activation of his combat protocols and scanned the room. His weapons may be offline or removed for all he could check, but his targeting system worked fine. 

A table, three chairs, the hum of the generator, and the bubbling hiss of the water in the adjacent cavern. 

No one was -

A servo might as well have gripped his spark as he brought the cube up to his optic again.

In the reflection of the cube, a red optic stared back at him.

A shaking servo reached up toward his face. The slight ache around his optics...

“THAT CIRCUIT-FRIED FRAGGER!” His voice echoed through the cavern.

Fuming and reeling back his arm his lines pressurize and -

_Stay functional._

Gritting his denta he blew a vent out his nasal ridge then lowered the cube and brought it back to his intake.

Deciding Skywarp had gone through a lot of trouble just to poison Sunstreaker alone in a cavern seemed unlikely. He downed the cube in two swigs -

Then promptly sputtered and gagged.

Staring in disbelief toward the now empty cube his tanks roiled and burned.

Hi-grade. For flight frames. Maybe Skywarp did want to offline him slowly from poison. 

A ground frame _could_ live off energon processed for flight frames but it tended to overcharge systems. Inefficient, it burned quickly through a ground frame's system as it created a high then crashed a mech low. 

Mechs who drank it regularly adapted eventually…but if it became unavailable…

Clenching his denta he glared at the red optic peering back from the reflection in the cube. He set the empty cube down on the berth as if it were a Pit viper. Withdrawal was never a pleasant sight in the Pits when groundframes that became addicted could no longer afford the cost. He’d have to watch closely how much he consumed and just ignore the gnawing in his tanks. 

Reaching for his polishing cloth again he snarled as his subspace refused to transform and charge shot through his lines from his tanks. Stomping around the cavern again, he idly picked at the dried drips of paint on his forearm.

Still solid. Not crumbling. Emptiness in his spark where Sideswipe should be haunting him and he constantly reached for it hoping to find an end. A wall. Anything he could batter against and wear down.

_Focus._

Step two. Gather information and resources. 

His comms were still online, but when he had searched for the device that could be blocking them he hadn’t found much. 

The cave he was imprisoned had two caverns. As he had explored the main cavern, Sunstreaker had ran his servo along the perimeter searching for seams or gaps. The main cavern was expansive though mostly empty save the berth, and the table and chairs. The rock walls curved up to a domed ceiling, high enough that Sunstreaker couldn't reach it unless he had enough room to get up to speed then transform and leap. He had activated his headlights and shone them upward. 

There was a long crack, large enough for a human but useless for him.

He stored the crack under the Maybe Something He Could Pick At and Hope Not to Bring the Entire Dome Down on Top of Himself escape plan. 

…Sideswipe was always better at naming the plans. 

The cavern was shaped as if something had inflated inside it then drained away. The rock looked similar to the network of tunnels that were naturally carved throughout the volcano the Ark had crashed in. 

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had come across Beachcomber deep in the tunnel system when Sideswipe was mapping and searching for places to store his less than standard regulation supplies. Beachcomber had followed them for a bit, excitedly droning on about the tunnels' formation, half of which Sunstreaker tried to tune out and the other half went over his helm. 

Lava tubes or something. 

So he was either in a volcano or near enough to one that lava had flowed into this space once.

Sunstreaker groaned. He never thought he would have wished he listened closer to Beachcomber be a nerd about rocks.

He had no idea how long he stared up at the cavern, slowly moving in circles as he tried to recall anything about lava flow when it hit him...

If lava could flow in, it had to flow out right? 

He looped around the space that was large enough for him to drive in maddeningly tight circles but it was no racetrack. The sound of his storming pedes rang off cavern walls. His spark had clenched as he recalled he couldn't so much as open his subspace for his polishing cloth, let alone transform to drive in circles. 

He screamed into the void praying to Primus that Sideswipe could hear him. 

Lights had been strung up along the walls and their cord started through the smaller gap Skywarp had gone through to retrieve a cleaning cloth. 

He ducked back into the smaller space, annoying useless wing kibble bouncing on his back. He had already used to the washracks twice but resisted putting his itching frame under them a third time in favour of finding a way to escape. 

His focus locked on the power generator linked into a small bubbling pool of water and knelt beside it. According to the readings from his targeting system, it was deep and -

Fraggit all. That's where the lava had gone. 

The hole jutting off was too small to fit through, even if his internals could take the prolonged heat without venting, he didn’t know how far it went.

Operation Follow the Lava Flow was dead and he grasped both sides of his helm and screamed to no one.

The hum of the generator beside him drew his focus. He stared at it and his racing, coiling spark calmed. Just being in the orbit of Sideswipe and his swaths of destruction he called pranks had enabled Sunstreaker to reasonably conclude that he could rig the generator to explode. 

So…maybe Sunstreaker could rig the generator to explode large enough to break through the rock -

The plan had potential but there was a high probability the rock was too thick. 

He filed that under I Wish Sideswipe was Here to Think Up a Good Name for Exploding a Generator that Probably Would Do Nothing but Leave Me in the Dark."

Alone. 

With crumbling plating turning to rust.

A shudder wracked his frame as he screamed into the void again and he picked at his plating - 

_Focus_

Dragging his servo down his face he vented a sigh and considered the extra cube Skywarp had left. His fuel levels were currently at 53%, but it wasn’t worth overcharging his systems on jet grade energon just to get to 100%.

With a significant number of his systems blocked or offline he didn't have as much draw on his fuel tank anyway. 

Energy conservation would be important. 

He couldn't risk consuming that extra cube yet. 

All indications pointed to Skywarp probably being the only way out of here, unless he could get a message to the Autobots. Even then, it’s not like there were only two volcanoes on this dirt ball -

Icy fear trickled down his lines as he reached out to touch the rock…he was…still on _Earth_ right? 

Could Skywarp…

_Command had been terrified._

Standing, Sunstreaker revved his engine at his own racing thoughts and returned to the main chamber next to the berth. Getting down on the floor, Sunstreaker pushed the cube Skywarp has set beside his berth to the far wall and out of view.

If he could manage a message, what would he even say?

_::Sunstreaker report your location.::_

_::There are rocks.::_

_::Report your location.::_

_::There are fragging rocks. I’m in a fragging cavern. I think it’s volcanic but I don’t know because I didn’t really listen to Beachcomber, honestly who listens to Beachcomber geek out about rocks?!::_

_::What is your status?::_

_::I can’t feel my twin. Is Sideswipe okay? Please tell me he’s okay. Skywarp said he didn’t kill him but I can’t feel him. Why can’t I feel him? Tell him I’m sorry. Tell him I’ll try and seek again, just give him back to me.::_

_::What’s your enemy status?::_

_::He’s insane. He thinks I’m his brother. I didn’t even know Thundercracker and Skywarp were brothers. Primus does this mean that Starscream is related to them too? I don’t want to think about the personal lives of Decepticons. Skywarp repainted me and it’s uneven and awful, and I have this hideous winglet kibble that bounces when I walk. My plating itches and I have a slagging spark collar installed in my systems that’s making me relive fears that are scarred onto my spark. And my spark doesn’t fragging fit in this frame. What if…what if he’s telling the truth? Tell Sideswipe that I love him because he can’t feel me pulse it to him.::_

Sunstreaker scoffed at himself. Yea that would go over well with command. _Sunstreaker_ breaking down into their comms.

Taking the empty energon cube container, he smashed it over the table like he had the last. Surely Skywarp wouldn’t notice there was only enough glass for one cube and assume he had consumed both.

Staring down at the shattered cube Sunstreaker’s processor spiraled in circles as he reviewed his scant resources he could use to find a solution. If only his plating would stop crawling every time he caught sight of the poor application. He swore he could feel the difference in weight as thicker paint pressed heavier and lighter coated plating felt -

_Focus_

Skywarp was his best chance of escaping. Sunstreaker stomped back over to examine the generator again.

Step three: Play the part.

Sideswipe had a way of making mechs love him. He could observe a mech from a distance then within klicks go up and be exactly what that mech needed to start to trust him so Sideswipe could get exactly what he wanted from that mech. Oh it could take time, but Sideswipe was exceedingly patient and would take the time he needed. A jab there, a laugh here, a punch there, a cube of hi-grade here; it could take decacycles for him to work on a mark. 

Sunstreaker had watched him work on the occasions Sideswipe had wanted Sunstreaker’s intimidating presence behind him. 

Step four: Escape

He tried not to think about the gaping hole in his spark, or how the uneven paint on his frame made his plating twitch and itch. Making as much noise as possible he could almost pretend that he wasn't left alone to crumble into rust.

Sideswipe was a master at his craft. Sunstreaker was better at looming behind his brother and growling for emphasis when Sideswipe nudged him along their bond to perform.

_Easy. See Sunny?_

Sunstreaker was so slagged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder that the posting schedule for this story is much more erratic than my others. It's fully drafted...but the first thing I ever wrote so it takes _a lot_ of clean up and I'm often rewriting entire chapters so they flow better.
> 
> Let me show you an example of what I mean...
> 
> Sideswipe {sighed - vented}  
> Sunstreaker’s {head thingies}  
> Prowl crossed his arms over his {bumper? Can his arms even fit over that? Look this up}  
> {Wasn’t First Aid in the room? Where did he go?}  
> At first he ignored it, lost in his despair. {elaborate}
> 
> These are all notes I will find mid chapter sometime. *laughs at self*
> 
> (But apparently I already had some done so...yay for you if you are still reading this, I still love this story's potential even if it was way more ambitious than my writing level).


	12. Step Two

The flash of purple attracted Sunstreaker’s attention before the sound reached him, and he immediately froze in place as Skywarp _vopped_ into the cavern.

Words were pouring out of Skywarp’s vocalizer the instant he appeared.

"Hey TC! Only one cube this time but your tank should be full from the two I left you right? I brought one for myself too.” 

Sunstreaker went to lean against the cavern wall as if he hadn’t been pacing; scowling when he couldn’t because the winglet kibble snagged. He covered it by crossing his arms in front of himself. 

He had no clue how much time had past, had recharged fitfully twice but didn’t know for how long. Colourful dreams whispered stories from blue seekers who got him into this mess still haunted him even here. He was burning through his fuel with his pacing, now at 34%.

The seeker shuffled in place under his glare. 

Skywarp had returned before Sunstreaker had finished his preparations for his ambush, so he resolved to use this interaction to probe the purple seeker for more information as part of step two. So far this interaction at least confirmed Skywarp intended to keep returning, and planned to keep bringing fuel. 

Still, he couldn’t help his irritable rev that Skywarp had _vopped_ in no where near the chairs and table Sunstreaker had been rearranging about the cavern, hoping Skywarp’d trip on upon arrival.

If he couldn’t kill the slagging glitch, he’d at least be an annoyance that would make Sideswipe proud.

When Sunstreaker got back to the Autobots he was going to read all Perceptor's painfully detailed and dry reports on the science behind outlier abilities. Then he was going to ask Sideswipe to help him figure out what half the words meant. Sideswipe would ask Ratchet, and Sunstreaker would stand there pretending not to be interested. 

Sunstreaker really wished he knew _how_ Skywarp's teleportation worked right now. 

"You know I'm a ground frame right?" Sunstreaker asked through gritted denta. 

Skywarp’s wings jerked upward then dropped, optics growing wide and…panicked? The expression caused Sunstreaker to pause. Had he already broken whatever delusion Skywarp had that Sunstreaker’s spark belonged to his brother?

Primus he sucked at this.

He’d fragged up step three already then. 

"I'm sorry TC but I did the research. I can't get your spark transferred into another frame. You were lucky enough to survive one transplant and I doubt I could convince the Autobot medic to do it even if I did capture him too, and that’s if we found enough parts to construct you a new seeker frame. And we aren’t stealing one of the others. The risks of a glitch when transferred into a frame that already has distinct memories are too high. No way I'm letting Hook try it. You know what he's like.” 

Sunstreaker stared for a moment, frozen at Skywarp’s frantic rapid fire response. 

No actually, Sunstreaker had no idea what Hook was like except when he was combined into a gestalt and tried to stomp him as Devastator. And Sunstreaker resolutely did _not_ want to know the secret lives of Decepticon medics. 

With a huff he stalked forward. 

"The fuel you little glitch. You brought me energon refined and processed for flight frames.” He gestured to himself as he closed the distance between them. “Ground frame.”

Skywarp looked like an earth mammal in Sunstreaker’s headlights under Sunstreaker’s advance. Glancing hastily toward the fuel in his servos, then back to an approaching Sunstreaker who came to a halt in front of him. The stunned seeker looked down as Sunstreaker jabbed a digit at his cockpit. 

"Do not even think about trying to transfer my spark to another frame.” He threatened with a growl, “And don't lay a fragging digit on Ratchet or I'll tear off your wings." Revving his engine for emphasis, he snatched both cubes from a wide optic, unresisting Skywarp then stalked away. 

And Sunstreaker clamped down his plating and braced for that spark collar to be triggered. He shouldn't have threatened him and just left it at the fuel, but he'd be slagged if he let him try to transfer his spark, and the thought of him targeting Ratchet -

"But don't you think your spark needs higher concentration? At least until it settles?" Skywarp scrambled after him. "I checked everywhere but I couldn't find information on the proper fuel a spark needs if it's placed in a new frame type."

Sunstreaker stopped, spun and revved his engine at Skywarp when he got too close. 

"I know, I know, you _hate_ groundpounders. But that's not what you are. Well technically you are, but you aren't at spark and that's what matters right?” 

Narrowing his optics, Sunstreaker opened his mouth for a biting retort, but Skywarp just kept going. 

"It will be too much for your spark for you to transform until you get settled into your new frame. I couldn't take the risk you'd transform by accident and your spark guttered from the stress.”

Ice shot through Sunstreaker’s lines.

Unbidden against his will, Sunstreaker’s processor spiraled Skywarp’s words in circles. Sunstreaker’s spark _did_ have a risk of guttering from his injury and Ratchet _had_ told him he wasn't allowed to transform yet. He and Sideswipe were also suppose to be merging more frequently to help reduce the risk. Reaching for his bond to his brother again, he grasped nothing and fought the whine that threatened to rise in his engine.

"That's why I visited Vortex and got a transformation inhibitor."

Spark seemingly stopping at that new information, Sunstreaker was brought up short. Frag he was so bad at digging for information and he braced himself. 

"Wait. You _didn’t_ remove my T-Cog?"

“What?” Wings shot up higher along with the pitch of Skywarp’s voice and his field battered against Sunstreaker’s in shock. “ _No_! That's cruel.” 

“And a spark collar’s not?” Skywarp recoiled and flinched from Sunstreaker’s accusation.

“That’s different. It's for your own good so you don't get a glitch.” He held out his servos and Sunstreaker snapped off his retort with an irritated rev instead. “I don't have the medical knowledge to remove a vital part of a mech and have them still live! Primus TC, I would never do that to you. Minor repairs? Sure. Sealing lines, energon feeds, cracked optic filters, minor welds - you'd help too of course, we always patch each other up, Star most of all after Megatron takes losses out on him."

Growling, Sunstreaker shook his helm as his spark flipped. 

He did not need to know that about the command trine - 

Duo now he supposed. 

He'd seen it on the battle field of course, Megatron and Starscream bickering until Starscream got slammed to the ground. 

But Starscream was an annoying glitch, surely he deserved it.

His spark twisted and he grasped for comfort that wasn’t there. 

Not even Sunstreaker was hard headed enough to take on Megatron one on one, not since he almost ended Sunstreaker in the Pits. That was the fight caused Sideswipe double his efforts to get Sunstreaker out. Sunstreaker had become obsessed with besting Megatron and practiced obsessively. 

On live combatants to the approval of his masters.

"I'm sorry TC.” Skywarp’s apologetic tone brought Sunstreaker back to himself. “I shouldn't have left you so confused. I should have pushed harder. Explained more.” 

Sunstreaker scowled at the seeker. 

"You actually thought I removed your T-Cog?" Skywarp asked in a soft voice. The expression on his face was one Sunstreaker couldn't quite identify. 

All he knew was that he didn't like it coming from a fragging Decepticon seeker.

“Yes. I did.” Sunstreaker growled, suddenly angry. “And don't call me that, that’s not my name.” 

He wanted to punch that look off the seeker's pathetic face. 

That look was wrong. 

Stalking away again, now completing a circuit of the cavern, he kicked the table to slide it back against the wall. Slamming the cubes onto the table, a flash of purple appeared beside him with a vop. 

The weight of an arm was slung over his shoulder plating and Sunstreaker instantly clamped down his plating. Standing rigid he waited for his combat protocols to come online outside his control. 

They didn’t, and that fragged him off even more. 

Snapping his glare toward Skywarp he revved his engine in warning. 

"Oh no.” A smile stretched across Skywarp’s face and his spark leapt. “You aren't scaring me off this time. I gave you space and you went and convinced yourself that your loving, talented, and handsome brother removed your T-Cog."

Primus Skywarp could sound exactly like Sideswipe…his spark ached and he reached into the void.

"I. Am. Not. _Yours_.” Sunstreaker ground out when nothing reached back. 

He was going to get himself killed. 

Step three. 

He should be pretending to be Thundercracker's spark until the time came to escape. Skywarp was living a lie and as soon as Sunstreaker shattered it, the seeker would remember who exactly it was that caused Thundercracker to crash. 

Who knew what the deranged seeker would do then.

But he just couldn't. The void in his spark ate at him. The flashbacks of rust and ash he expected to be trigger by the spark collar never came. 

"Of course you are. And I'll just have to keep reminding you until you believe me.” Skywarp gave a quick squeeze then let go, grabbed a cube and warped out of the way of Sunstreaker's swinging fist. 

His laughter echoed through the cavern as if Sunstreaker was _playing_. 

"Do I know my brother or what? Predictable. That's what you are. I could read that punch coming in your field probably before you even knew you wanted to hit me."

Target locking Skywarp, Sunstreaker stalked forward, ”I always want you hit you you fragging glitch.”

Skywarp took a sip from his cube and looked at the three chairs haphazardly spread around the room. 

"Interior decorating?" He asked as if his mind had moved on from the fact that Sunstreaker wanted nothing more than to shatter his faceplate. 

"I don't exactly have a lot to work with." Sunstreaker ground out and stopped advancing next to one of the chairs. 

_Focus. Stop letting him goad you. Stick to the plan._

Skywarp’s wings drooped, sudden mirth gone as soon as it had came and he glanced around the sparse cavern. 

"I'm sorry TC. I didn't have time to finish setting up for you. I saw your message and I came as soon as possible to rescue you.”

"Capture me you mean." Sunstreaker growled as he moved the chair to a new location. 

"Don't be like that. You need a safe place for your spark to stabilize."

"Whatever." He moved closer with the chair.

"Plus Megatron thinks your are deactivated. This is your chance to bow out of the war. I know we only stay because of Starscream." Skywarp finished quietly as he dragged his pede and stared at the ground with his wings hitched low. 

Sunstreaker halted in his tracks as his spark clenched. And he shouldn’t ask about the secret lives of the Decepticons, but he wanted to know because it had been bothering him as he paced around this cavern alone. 

"Because Starscream is…your brother too?” Skywarp’s focus whipped up at him and he was now beaming at Sunstreaker’s sudden interest. 

Slag. 

No wait. This was the plan right? Play the part.

"No. Starscream isn't our brother.” Skywarp laughed. "But I'm going to tell him you asked that. It would just _kill him_ to be related to me."

"You can't." The urgent protest was out of his vocalizer without thought. 

He could barely manage attempting to manipulate Skywarp without punching his slagging grinning face in. He couldn’t possibly be able to keep this up with another seeker, especially Starscream. His voice grated on Sunstreaker’s circuits.

"I can't what?" The seeker’s helm tilted to the side and Sunstreaker screamed into the void in his spark again. 

"Tell Starscream, or any of the Decepticons I'm here though, right? My spark needs to stabilize - like you said - and if other Decepticons know, then Megatron might find out, then they can come take me away." 

It was a gamble.

"No one can come take you away. No one else knows where you are and I'm the only mech capable of accessing this place.” Sunstreaker was expecting that answer to his bait but his spark still sunk to have it confirmed. 

He _couldn’t_ kill Skywarp while he was trapped in the cavern with him. 

Sunstreaker would be left _alone_ with his grey deactivated frame that would slowly crumble, its lifeless optics staring at him as Sunstreaker's internals painfully cannibalised themselves in an attempt to keep vital systems online and his plating became brittle and -

"Shouldn't we tell Star though? I mean he's _trine_.” Skywarp was frowning at him and Sunstreaker dropped the his arms that he had wrapped around his chestplate and held them ridgedly at his side. Clenching his servos into fists, he avoided picking at his chestplate further.

"You feel it don't you? The emptiness in your spark?” Sunstreaker could only nod slowly in response to Skywarp’s question. His engine gave a short whine he cut off as soon as he heard it. 

Skywarp rubbed over his own spark. "That's where our trine bond should be."

"No." The protested whisper of disbelief ghosted out of his vocalizer as he reached for Sideswipe only to grasp at nothing. 

"You are missing from it. I don't know how it broke, maybe the trauma of the transfer but no trine member's spark has ever been reformatted so -"

“No!” Sunstreaker raged. “You're wrong." 

"Thundercracker -"

"I'm not Thundercracker. I'm _Sunstreaker_. And that void in my spark, that _hole_ is where my twin should be.” Skywarp's optics light went hard and his wings hiked high, rigid but Sunstreaker continued anyway without questioning how he knew what that meant. "He's the other _half_ of my spark. You are not him. I am not yours. I belong to Sides-"

Vision burst into sprays of rust and smoking ash of Sideswipe red. When they cleared Sunstreaker was shaking on the floor, forcing his static laced vocalizer to function. 

"You can't keep me from him.” He sputtered out. Weak. Fragging weak.

With a hiss of pistons, Skywarp crouched low where Sunstreaker was glaring up. Limbs shaking, and plating rattling, his fragging winglet kibble wiggled while a spatter of regurgitated energon trickled down over his lips. A black servo reached out and clamped hard on Sunstreaker's chin. 

Sunstreaker strived to return Skywarp's hard glare with one of his own to hide the terror still coursing through his isolated spark.

"You are _my_ brother.” The seeker’s voice turned deadly, “And that Autobot who thought he could deceive you, _steal_ you from me, _replace_ his own deactivated brother with _mine_ will never get you back. I won't allow it."

As abruptly as Skywarp had lashed out, his tone turned as soft as he morphed his touch, "You've always sacrificed for me. It's my turn to protect you."

And Sunstreaker was too weak to pull away as Skywarp rubbed his forehelm against Sunstreaker's own, a gesture reserved for mechs you trust with all your spark.

He held Sunstreaker face gently in his servos, keeping their forehelms locked and whispered a knife into Sunstreaker’s spark.

"Even if I have to protect you from yourself.”

Sunstreaker's tanks clenched and contorted.

And his spark skipped a rotation.

~8~8~8~8~8~8~

Sunstreaker lay on his back where Skywarp had placed him on the berth.

Unmoving, he let Skywarp wipe the regurgitated energon he had convulsed in off his frame. 

With his optics purposefully offline, he listened to the rustle of plating as Skywarp cleaned up Sunstreaker’s purged mess. And Skywarp chatted away as if Sunstreaker cared what he had to say. As if Skywarp hadn't just forced him to relive his worse fears when Sunstreaker had simply said his twin's name. 

The void in his spark felt numb.

At first Sunstreaker had offlined his audials to shut Skywarp out completely, but it wasn't long before the uneven weight of his plating made him itch in the silence. 

It was too quiet without his bond. 

And Skywarp was nattering away about how much he hated monitor duty. Staring resigned at his 9% fuel levels remaining, Sunstreaker supposed some things between the factions were inevitably universal. 

"I mean you're just suppose to sit there and stare at screens, and once you work your way into a comfortable position or take your optics of the screen for a klick, fragging Soundwave always shows up am I right?”

Another shuffle of plating, and a soft wet cloth brushed against his face.

"Why even have monitor duty if Soundwave is going to sit around and monitor you monitor the monitors right?” Sunstreaker had a feeling Soundwave only monitored certain Decepticons. Like ones that could vop away from duty and come back and pretend they were there the whole time. 

Sideswipe couldn't even teleport but he still managed to slip away during his shifts and be back before Red Alert noticed. 

"And monitor duty is all I seemed to be assigned to these days. Star never wants to fly with me anymore. Soundwave updated my schedule for shifts after he found out I had accessed logs so I could see into the Autobot base. Guess he figured I was feeling better.”

The cloth drifted lower, and circled across his chestplate for the third time yet Sunstreaker’s limbs felt too weak to even move lest they crumble, even though it was all in his head.

“Anyway, lately it's been more interesting. Something's got the Autobots all stirred up and we keep finding their Spec Ops mechs in the weirdest locations on the ship."

Apathy lifted from Sunstreaker's spark and he pulsed into the void. They were looking for him. As far as command knew he disappeared from solitary confinement in The Hole. Wheeljack’s anti-teleportation devices obviously didn’t work.

His fuel pump stopped.

He wasn't on the Nemesis. Unless Skywarp kept a diary, there was nothing to find. Spec Ops were good, but if they kept being found on the ship they were being sloppy. Rushed extraction plans were almost always sloppy compared to carefully planned intel and sabotage missions. 

Somebot was going to get killed looking for him.

 _I got them all killed._

Sideswipe would get killed.  
His spark rate increased.

His twin would talk his way into The Well itself and back out again if it meant keeping his promise to his brother. Who knew what he would do to gain access to the Decepticon base. He wouldn’t trust the information Spec Ops told him. He’d have to go search for himself.

There would be no stopping him.

His twin never knew when to quit. Sunstreaker had to get out and get him a message. Resolve strengthened in his cortex and he turned his processor back toward the only plan he had conspired.

And he knocked Skywarp’s servo off his chestplate, “Frag off.”

There was silence for a moment and Sunstreaker didn't want to online his optics to see the expression his rebuff brought to the seeker’s face. 

With the sound of a vop, Skywarp’s voice was further away.

"I swear Soundwave's gotten twitchy. No really! I saw his plating actually twitch the other day. One whole twitch when I mentioned the Autobot's Head of Special Operations by name."

Sunstreaker suppressed a snort but he couldn’t stop the smirk from forming in the corner of his mouth. He was definitely going to tell Jazz he got to Soundwave when he got back. Jazz had been trying to get any sort of visual reaction from Soundwave since before they left Cybertron. 

"Megatron's furious of course, but he's been leaving Star alone in his lab so it's actually kinda funny to watch him throw a hissy fit for once.” 

Sunstreaker had a hard time imagining the mech who pulled out Sunstreaker’s spark chamber in a match and showed it to him, throwing a hissy fit. Megatron went against the crowds cheers and didn’t crush it because he wanted to rub in how helpless Sunstreaker - the Beast of the Pits - was before him.

"But every time we figure out how they are getting in, they find a new way.” A scrape of a chair and Skywarp tutted. “You can’t keep breaking the cubes. Mixmaster is going to throw a fit when he finds out that I’m not bringing them back for reuse.”

The sound of his so called _vop_ announced his sudden presence beside Sunstreaker again and Sunstreaker onlined his optics, a snarl already formed on his face.

Skywarp flinched back his approaching servo as if Sunstreaker had burned him. 

“Just. Think about things you might want here, and please don’t break another cube. I’ll bring you anything. Only the best. I’ll be back after my shift.” He shuffled on his pedes, twitched his wings, and chewed his fragging lip, “I love you.” 

Then he was gone in a flash of purple and Sunstreaker was left alone again in echoing silence. Staring at the ceiling he watched his fuel level’s drop to 8%.

The silence ate into his audials and spark.

Uneven plating itched, and with sigh of resignation he looked over to the cube Skywarp had set next to his helm.

Drinking the entire cube of jet grade energon brought his levels up to 48%.

When the excess charge shot from his tanks to his lines he started stalking around the cavern again, to combat the silence. 

The purple Seeker was excessively chatty and Sunstreaker barely had to prompt him. When Skywarp returned he’d be ready for step three and four.

_Easy._

Sideswipe’s life depended on knowing Sunstreaker wasn’t in the Nemesis. 

_Play the part. Escape._

He could do this.

Guarding Sideswipe and his hopes and dreams was simply what Sunstreaker did best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunstreaker may suck at getting information without his temper rising, but Skywarp is excessively chatty...and abruptly terrifying. A little more info about what the Autobots might be doing behind the scenes to find Sunstreaker, and what Skywarp is up to while he's not in the cavern with Sunstreaker.
> 
> And Sunstreaker moving the sparse furniture around for something to do and attempting to figure out how Skywarp's vopping works has the added benefit of minor amusement if he can manage to trip his captor amuses me. But poor Sunstreaker is incredibly agitated but he has a plan to focus on.
> 
> More and more parts of the parallels Skywarp sees for why he thinks that's Thundercracker's spark in Sunstreaker's spark chamber, and Sunstreaker's trying not to think about everything that's adding up from Skywarp's words.


End file.
